


the balance book

by coldmackerel



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: gratuitous internal monologues and bad humor, suffering and hilarity ensue, they all alive and thats what counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 87,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldmackerel/pseuds/coldmackerel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>josh keeps a totally manly diary, everyone learns some things, and everyone pays a price. a story about the comedic undertones of some distinctly not funny things.</p><p>complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. contraband pointy objects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pointy objects are a privilege, not a right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suddenly crawls from my grave to bring u all this garbage.
> 
> josh seems like the kind of guy i can write. or not. either way it's fun.
> 
> this takes place about two months after the events of the game.
> 
> cheers, friends.

Josh was manly and tough and strongly objected to owning diaries, but he was  -quite literally - legally bound to go buy one. The diary was the therapist’s orders and the therapist was the judge’s orders and the judge was kind of a hypothetical player being lorded over his head by the parents of his combination best friends and worst enemies who mostly hated him. It was complicated. He had to buy a diary.

Standing in the Walgreens between his therapist’s office and his house, he stared at the small selection of diaries. Actually, he was going to call this a journal. There was no need to refer to his diary as a diary. Journals were marginally more manly and tough. Unfortunately, only about half of the meager selection could pass as a journal, so he didn’t have many manly or tough options open to him. He tried not to think too hard about it and grabbed a $4 diary – uh, journal, of a nondescript greenish color. And so the diary was acquired and the therapist was appeased and the hypothetical judge wasn’t alerted and his friends who hated him didn’t have to hear from their parents who also hated him that Josh was going to the slammer because he was too manly and tough for a diary. Journal. Whatever. The circle of stupidity was complete.

Now all he had to do was write in it.

He grabbed some blue pens from a clearance shelf because he liked the color blue and wasn’t sure if his parents had left any pointy objects in his room after being discharged from the hospital. He was not, under any circumstances, to be trusted with pointy objects. No pens for Joshua. It had been more than a few weeks, though, and he thought he had earned enough trust for some goddamn pens. His parents could baby-proof the house all they wanted, but Josh Washington was going to own pens for the first time since losing his shit on Blackwood Mountain. Baby steps.

“That all?” The cashier asked, eyes focused somewhere to the left of Josh. Josh turned and watched some guy do a sports thing on the silent television monitor. Josh himself was not very good at doing any kind of sports thing.

Josh turned back around, grunted, and dropped a few bills on the counter.

When the cashier finally tore his eyes away from the far off television, his gaze fell to the items he was bagging. “Cool diary,” he said slowly. Josh was pretty sure the kid was high. Honestly, he would probably get high before working the night shift at Walgreens too.

“Thanks,” Josh said slowly. “But it’s more like a journal. You know, for _men_ to write their aspirations, emotional drama, and teen crushes in. In a _manly_ way. You know.”

Ben the cashier bobbed his head a few times in stoned understanding. “Right on, man.” Ben squinted at the small monitor sticking up from the cash register that read “Change: $1.46” and handed Josh back $5.46. “Here’s your change and uh, your manly diary.”

Josh considered pointing out the error in Ben the Cashier’s change, but pocketed the miscalculated funds instead. He figured it was the universe sympathizing with him for having to buy a journal. And because the universe didn’t seem to sympathize with him concerning many things, he figured it would be dumb to turn it down. Thanks universe. Thanks Ben.

Armed with a journal and contraband pointy objects, Josh headed home – not in a car of course. He walked everywhere now. Cars had thousands upon thousands of pointy parts and objects and were inevitably hurtling toward other pointy objects at any given time during operation. This was a walking nightmare for Mr. and Mrs. Washington, proud parents of a son who was not to be trusted around pointy objects.

He wasn’t bitter.

A little under a mile and several non-bitter ruminations later and Josh was back in the safe zone, only slightly less safe with the presence of his five new, pointy blue pens. He kind of wanted to abandon his purchases under his bed until his next therapy session, but he knew that would disappoint the boss. Can’t have that. That would disappoint the nonexistent judge, and so on and so forth. As it were, he had therapy three times a week so he would only gain about one day of non-journaling before being busted.

Choosing uncharacteristically to do the responsible thing (ew), Josh trudged upstairs and dropped tiredly into the chair at his desk. He tore the packaging off of his purchases, carefully deposited the garbage on the floor, and flipped to the first page of his new journal. Chewing thoughtfully on the bottom of his new blue pen, he regarded the blank page.

Now what.

Actually, when it came right down to it, Josh was never told what to write in his journal. He wasn’t very good at listening, but he was pretty sure his therapist hadn’t mentioned a theme for this manly, tough journal.

He tried to remember something from his session mere hours before.

 

* * *

 

“Josh, you look like you aren’t listening.”

Josh cleared his throat. “Oh, no, I am.” No he wasn’t. “Just thinking.” About nothing relevant to whatever he was just saying.

“I understand, Josh. Did you give some thought to what we talked about last week? I worry that by not reaching out to blah blah blah blah-“

What had he been thinking about?

Oh, wait it actually _was_ kind of related. He had been trying to remember his therapist’s name. See, there’s this window when you first meet someone where it’s acceptable to admit that you forgot his or her name and ask for it again. If you wait too long, you’ve missed your chance and you just have to figure it out some other way. Josh forgot his therapist’s name within an hour of first hearing it and decided it would just come up again later.

It hadn’t.

Josh missed his window to ask the guy’s name again and now he was stuck without it like a month and a half into the most intimate relationship he’s had during this time period. For gods sake, this man knew his blood type. How romantic is that? Josh’s own parents probably don’t remember his blood type. Actually, Josh didn’t know his own blood type. Either way, Josh saw this guy the most out of anybody now that his best friends hated him and his parents were busy turning his pointy objects over to the FBI or whatever. This dude was like his family now. They ride together, they die together.

What the fuck was his name, Jesus national superstar Christ.

Well, the guy had an autographed Van Halen poster in the corner of his office, so Josh dubbed him Dr. Van Halen. It was a shitty name, but that’s just what Dr. Van Halen got for liking a shitty band. Karma, bitch.

“Josh I asked you a question. Are you sure you’re listening?”

Shit.

“Josh I think we should reschedule for another day this week and redo this session. I’m afraid you’re just not with me today,” Dr. Van Halen sighed.

Karma, bitch.

“Sorry,” Josh muttered at David Lee Roth’s grinning visage in the corner. He would apologize to vocalist David Lee Roth, but never guitarist Eddie Van Halen. Not in this lifetime.

Dr. Van Halen smiled, and Josh noted the dimples on his otherwise drab features. People with dimples are inherently more trustworthy, so Josh tried his best to listen to at least a few more sentences before tuning out. “Alright, Josh, we can reschedule and try again next time. But I really need you to begin writing that personal log I mentioned. I think it might help you figure out what you need from me.”

The fan blades clicked quietly above them for a few moments while Josh blinked at his therapist. “You want me to keep a _diary_?”

Chuckling, Dr. Van Halen opened his palms toward Josh disarmingly. “If that’s what you want to call it, Josh. But yes, that’s the idea.”

Classic disarming gesture, but Josh was not going to be disarmed so easily. “What am I gonna have to write in it?” He asked. “Like, which girls I hope ask me to the senior prom? The weather? Lyrics that make me feel emotionally vulnerable?” He physically forced his mouth shut. It was so difficult not being an ass sometimes, even to famous lead-guitarist therapists with dimples.

His therapist shrugged good-naturedly. “If you want, Josh. You can tell me which girls you want to ask to the senior prom. That’s fine.”

Josh deflated, “all right, all right, no need to be childish,” he said, crossing his arms childishly.

Dr. Van Halen’s smile only grew wider. “My suggestion, though, instead of lyrics or chasing girls, would be to find a theme. Find something that makes sense to you and keep track of it. Keep track of things that make you happy or confused. Keep track of your nightmares. Keep track of the lives of people you care about. Anything. Find what makes sense.”

Josh wanted to say that nothing made sense, but Dr. Van Halen would have made him schedule another appointment to discuss that statement further. “Sure,” he said. “And if I can’t find a theme, I’m just gonna stick with cute girls.”

“Whatever works, Josh. It’s your call.”

 

* * *

 

 

His call, huh?

Cute girls it is.

He was about to put Natalie Portman’s name right below “Random girl I saw at Subway the other day  (seemed like an Allison maybe)” preceeded by Sam (shut up) when his phone lit up with a notification. Now, that wasn’t _that_ weird considering he was a 20-year-old dude who had friends and his phone hadn’t been pointy enough to be confiscated by his parents. However, his friends hated him, he didn’t have any contacts saved to this phone, he didn’t even get this phone until after The Incident © (not a fond nickname, but it served its purpose), and no one even had his new number. Well, his parents did, but they only ever called him. Dr. Van Halen called sometimes too, but they weren’t exactly on texting terms yet. That was probably Josh’s fault for not even knowing his real name.

Maybe his hallucinations were back and they’d learned how to text. Man, hallucinations just get cleverer every year. What would they even text him?

 

 

> **_Hallucination_ ** _: Bro, you suck_
> 
> **_Josh_ ** _: Tru_
> 
> **_Hallucination_ ** _: Also, don’t look out your window because there’s this pale, creepy-crawly bastard with fangs and your sister’s tattoo and they’re waiting to pull bits of your brain through your eye sockets for a midnight snack. Just a heads up._
> 
> **_Josh_ ** _: Same old shit._

 

 

Something like that probably.

No point in being clever with no one around to see it, though, so Josh opened the text message from the unknown number.

 

 

> **_Unknown_ ** _: How are you?_

Loaded question. Super personal. Way over the line.

He texted back anyways.

 

 

> **_Josh_ ** _: Been better. Been worse._

 

He’d just sent that text when an entirely different unknown number texted him. Looked like he was Mr. Popular that night. He opened this new anonymous text up.

 

 

> **_Unknown2_ ** _: Fuck you, you sick fuck. Get fucked._

 

Okay, maybe not Mr. Popular. That text was like 50% “fuck”. He stared dumbly at the text for a solid minute before shrugging and typing back.

 

 

> **_Josh_ ** _: Fair enough._

 

That was enough socializing for one month, he thought.

Josh dropped his line of sight back down to the page of cute girls and considered calling it a night. He had performed admirably. Dr. Van Halen said he could keep a journal of cute girls and that was exactly what he had done. Maybe next week his therapist could tell him what his attraction to Scarlett Johansson meant. Probably that he had a deep-rooted fear of rejection by his peers and was sexually attracted to failure. That seemed right.

Josh’s phone lit up again with a soft beep and he groaned. “What now? Can’t you see I’m exhausted from all this socializing?” He demanded of no one in particular. He opened the message anyways from a third unknown number.

 

 

> **_Unknown3_ ** _: I wonder sometimes if you’ve learned anything. Had any epiphanies, you know? What did this cost you? I only know what it cost me._

 

Well damn if that wasn’t vague. And yet, Josh had the sinking feeling that he knew who had gotten a hold of his new number. Maybe Dr. Van Halen gave it away or maybe his parents did, or hell maybe God himself descended from heaven and passed out little golden slips of paper with his number on it to seven troubled, innocent young adults with instructions to harass at all cost. Regardless of who gave away his number, he was pretty sure he knew who had it. He might have felt nostalgic about the Blackwood Mountain text message reunion party if he didn’t feel so out of the loop. And attacked. And vulnerable. And generally unhappy about it.

 

Josh considered the text again.

What had he learned? And what had it cost him?

He tapped his blue pen on the desk a few times, brow furrowed in concentration. Anonymous Pissed Friend #3 probably deserved an answer. Truthfully, though, he hadn’t thought much about The Series of Unfortunate Events (another fond nickname he really shouldn’t have been proud of) that unfolded some two months ago beyond a vague roping off of the mental crime scene. He figured out where the boundaries of that whole clusterfuck were in his brain and painted the edges with “CAUTION: DO NOT ENTER” tape. That whole night was so fucked. Josh hadn’t learned anything, had he? Who cares. It happened.

Monsters existed. Josh Washington was crazy. Josh Washington was an asshole. Sometimes your friends suck. These were probably something akin to the lessons learned that night. What else was there?

Carefully, Josh tore the first page out of his journal and placed the list of cute girls in one of his desk drawers. You know, for posterity. He had thought of a better use for the journal anyways. In the center of the new first page, he scribbled

 

 

_what was learned_

_&_

_what it cost_

 

 

 

Josh wasn’t great at math, but he did like the easier stuff like how you had to have the same value on either side of an equal sign. That was easy enough. You give up something, you get something of equal value. You pay a price and you learn something.

He could work with this.

 

He wrote his own name at the top of the second page. That one was for him. On the next seven pages he wrote seven more names. These seven names were way more difficult to write than Josh anticipated. It’s not that “Sam” or “Jess” or “Matt” or any of them were difficult to spell. Josh may have been a college dropout but he was more or less literate. Rather, he realized that he hadn’t actually thought about any of them individually since The Incident ©. It was easier to rope them off in that whole part of his mind strangled with caution tape.

Scrubbing a hand over his weary eyes, Josh let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Time to take the tape down, I guess,” he muttered, staring glumly at the page opened to Ashley. What would he discover when he took down the caution tape? He had hallucinated the whole thing? Fat chance. He wasn’t as responsible as he suspected he was? Unlikely. A cool million? Well, hopefully. Famous author Lemony Snicket? Probably not, but those events _had_ been unfortunate.

He had no idea what to write for these people. They might as well be strangers to him at that point.

He had a lot of research to do.

 

\--

 

That night Josh’s parents made him non-pointy spaghetti – a very unthreatening dish. You really never knew what might set Josh off. Constant vigilance.

Afterward, his dad confronted him about the crumpled receipt on the floor that implicated Josh in the obtaining of pointy objects. Well, that’s not how it was worded, but that’s what it felt like. Instead, they interrogated him about what he needed pens for and he answered honestly which was one of the nicer things he had done for his parents that week. They let him keep the pens, but he caught his dad in his room inspecting them. Making sure they weren’t _too_ pointy.

 

Before Josh went to bed, he had written his first entry on the “Josh” page.

 

 

>   * _Josh learned that he is not trustworthy and it cost him his pointy objects._
> 


 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we ride together, we die together.
> 
> buckle up.
> 
> (next chapter: josh unsuccessfully turns down a visitor)
> 
> cheers.


	2. lock your windows, kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seriously, lock your windows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *distant chanting* new chapter, new chapter, new chapter
> 
> all i need is one person to indulge me with support and the rest of you must suffer for it.
> 
> by unpopular request: more of my writing

 

Josh woke up to another text from one of his not-so-secret admirers who hated him. Anti-admirers? Hmm.

 

 

> **_Unknown4_ ** _: Open the front door._

 

Josh had seen enough movies to know that when he opened the door no one would be there. Then maybe his lights would flicker ominously and he would get another text asking him if he knew where the children were. He didn’t even have children so the joke would be on them. But then the joke would be on him because he’d get axe-murdered. Josh weighed the costs and benefits of being axe-murdered.

Benefits won and he rolled ungracefully out of bed. “Hold on axe-murderer, I want to die with a shirt on,” he mumbled, sifting through the clothes littering the floor with his foot. His phone beeped again and he squinted at the new text.

 

 

> **_Unknown4_ ** _: Hurry up._

 

Josh rolled his eyes and grabbed the closest crumpled shirt. Slouching down the stairs, josh pulled the shirt over his head and managed to thread his own arms through the sleeves – a difficult task for someone unaccustomed to waking up before noon. His front door rattled ominously with another impatient knock. “I’m coming Untimely Demise, hold your horses,” he said to his empty house, dragging himself to the front door. He flung it open and shielded his eyes from the glare of a cheerful morning sun and the glare of a friend who hated him. He really had to stop calling them friends when he felt compelled to tag “who hated him” on the end of it each time.

Sam crossed her arms and gave him a withering look.

Opening the door was perhaps a mistake. Sam didn’t have an axe but she looked like she didn’t need one. Josh was kind of afraid he was going to drop dead by the sheer force of Sam’s ill will. Alright, so he panicked a little.

“Sorry, 'Unknown4', not entertaining today,” Josh stammered before slamming the door in her face.

Smooth.

Josh locked the deadbolt for good measure, but did not feel confident that it would contain her. He was probably going to be assassinated the next time he left his house, but there were worse things - like facing Sam and her trademark disappointment. Josh took a few steps back from the door gingerly, afraid it would burst open if he moved too fast.

Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Josh breathed a sigh of relief. The beast had been contained. Hopefully she would give up and go home. He retreated back to the kitchen and fished a bowl from one of the cabinets. It was kind of dusty. Josh wasn’t sure why the Washingtons didn’t eat from bowls. They were too good for that, he supposed. Well, Josh Washington was putting an end to that stigma today with a bowl of shredded wheat. Shredded wheat sucked, but that was the only cereal the anti-bowl Washingtons had in their house at the moment. Shredded wheat was more of a punishment than a cereal, but Josh kind of deserved a punishment for slamming the door in Sam’s face.

He poured the offensive cereal, dumped some milk on it and made his way back up the stairs to hide in his room for the rest of the day. At least he didn’t have therapy that day. When Josh arrived at his room, he pushed the door open with his foot, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He chewed slowly, staring at his windowsill.

Sam was sitting there, a little winded, propping his window up with her elbow, open wide enough for her to have climbed through. She smiled dangerously at him and he wondered how difficult it had been for her to climb to his second story bedroom. Murder was a powerful motivator, he guessed.

Briefly, he glanced over to the calendar box where he kept his meds. Everything was taken up to date, so Sam was probably actually in his room about to end his life. Josh had never been so disappointed to find out something wasn’t a hallucination.

“Hullo, Sammy,” Josh managed around a mouthful of wheat. “Lovely morning.”

Sam narrowed her eyes and studied Josh, who must have looked really dumb standing there with his hair standing on end and his punishment cereal. “You’re shirt’s on backwards, dumbass.” Okay, he must have looked really dumb standing there with his hair, his punishment cereal, AND his backwards shirt.

Josh shrugged. “I like it this way. How was your morning climb?”

Sam’s smile got tighter and Josh regretted choosing shredded wheat as his final supper. “Unneccessary. How has your morning been?”

“Unexpected,” he returned, stirring his cereal carefully. Neither person had moved much. Josh felt safer close to the exit and Sam was still perched on the windowsill. Menacingly. “But pleasant,” he added hastily, trying to appease the demon.

Sam stayed silent, which was probably the most uncomfortable thing she could have done to Josh. He cleared his throat after a minute of uncomfortable cereal stirring and eye contact. “Want some, er, cereal? I think it’s got some, uh, dust in it, though, because the Washingtons are normally too good for bowls. But my therapist told me to branch out. Uh, anyways. I can get you some...less dusty cereal if you want.”

Sam rolled her eyes and lowered herself from the windowsill. “I’ll pass, Josh. Glad to see you’re branching out, though.” She made her way over to Josh’s bed and sat down uninvited (rude), pulling her knees up to her chest. She acted like it hadn’t been nearly two months since they had seen each other. And, you know, that he hadn’t nearly gotten her killed and stuff. Or whatever.

It would probably be polite to stop lurking in the doorway like Sam was going to lunge at him. Josh pulled the chair out from his desk and sat down to finish what was left of his gross cereal. Neither of them said anything and Josh became increasingly self-conscious as the sounds of his clinking spoon echoed loudly in the silent room.

Finally, Sam spoke. “Did you get any texts last night?”

Josh dropped his spoon into the empty bowl and leaned back in his chair until only the two back legs were touching the ground. “Oh, yeah. The usual declarations of love from my numerous admirers. Same old, same old.”

He could feel her exasperated look boring through his backwards t-shirt even though he had his back to her. “Seriously, Josh, did you?”

Nodding, Josh cast a quick look over his shoulder at her. “Yep. I assume I have you to thank for distributing my new number?” It wasn’t accusatory. He didn’t figure he had any real right to privacy anyways.

“Sorry,” Sam said, unapologetically. Good. The last thing he wanted was for her to apologize to him. It would have made him feel even grosser than he already did. “I don’t know why I did it. Your mom gave it to me and I thought it might help some of the others if they had something they wanted to say to you.” She paused. “I hope they didn’t tear into you too bad.”

Josh fished his phone out of his pocket and waved it in Sam’s direction. “Actually, Emily asked me to be her future child’s godfather, and Mike wants to open a bar together and go into business with me.” He felt weird calling them by name. This whole conversation was weird.

“Is that so?” Sam muttered. Sam had always known better than to expect a serious answer from Josh.

Baby steps, though.

“Nah,” Josh said. “Someone told me, and I quote,” he took a few moments to pull up the message from Unknown2, “ _Fuck you, you sick fuck. Get fucked_.” He pronounced each syllable clinically, in his most pretentious voice possible. Dropping the lofty tone, Josh added, “which I translated to: please godfather my future child. Rough translation.”

Sam tried to cover her smile and Josh was glad for the first time that morning that Sam was in his house. Still mildly terrified, but glad. “How do you figure that’s Emily?” She asked, still hiding her amusement.

Josh smiled knowingly. “Her loving tone, and forgiving nature. How else?” He forgot that it actually felt kind of good making someone else laugh besides himself - not that he didn’t enjoy making himself laugh, because he did. But this felt marginally more productive. He didn’t care to let the silence return, so he cast around for some other topic that could make her laugh.

His eyes landed on the journal.

“Unfortunately,” Josh said slowly, “I think I’m gonna have to turn down Emily’s request. See, I’m busy becoming a bestselling author,” he finished dramatically, flourishing the journal above his head. He scooted his chair around to face her so he could fully appreciate her amusement and she could fully appreciate his sarcasm.

Sam released her knees from her chest and flattened them on his bed. “An author?” She asked with equal drama. “What are you writing?”

“A book!” Josh exclaimed, waving the journal again for emphasis. “It’s called: How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.”

Sam shook her head sadly. “I really hate to burst your bubble, Washington, but there is already a movie with that exact title.” She shrugged apologetically. “Back to the drawing board I guess.”

“Ah, well, you win some and you lose some,” Josh sighed, dropping the journal back onto his desk. “What’s another wasted two months of hard labor. Their loss, though, I'm an expert.”

Somewhere outside a bird squawked indignantly. Josh let it distract them both for a few moments to think of some other way to make her laugh. If she stopped laughing, she would probably kill him.

Instead of having to think of something else to say, Sam interrupted his frantic casting about for humor. “Well, what are you going to write in that journal if not the bestselling novel that never was?”

Josh weighed the options in his mind carefully. He could make another joke and distract her. Or, he could just tell her the truth, which was never something he was overly fond of. Then again, he knew she wasn’t here just to listen to him try to prove how funny he was. “My therapist ordered me to keep a diary. Not like, a girly diary, but a manly diary. I’m gonna put all my manly feelings in it.” He gave her a look that dared her to laugh.

Sam loved dares, but she stifled her smile. “Hey, whatever he thinks will help, right?” Sam added, coughing through badly concealed laughter.

Waving a hand noncommittally, Josh hoisted himself out of his desk chair and made for the door. “Sure. Whatever helps. I gotta take a leak. Make yourself at home.” He paused outside his door and leaned back in. “I mean that, too. My laundry really needs to be done, so feel free.” Sam gave him a look that did not seem pro-laundry, so he ducked out and headed for the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Josh wasn’t sure why he was in such a good mood, but he even put the toilet seat down when he left the bathroom. Hell, he even jumped in the shower for a few minutes. He got so charitable when he was in a good mood.

When he returned to his bedroom, Sam was sitting at his desk flipping absently through the mostly blank pages of his journal.

“Hey, what gives?” Josh protested halfheartedly. He didn’t actually care. “Super private stuff, there. So rude, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t seem bothered by being caught. “Eh, you owe me. Like, a lot.” She flipped back to the first page. “What we learned and what it cost,” she read aloud.

Josh stood beside the desk, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. “I’m actually writing a college textbook,” he joked lamely. “A really vague one.”

Sam ignored him. “And a page for each of us,” she added.

“My therapist told me to pick a theme. It was between that or just an endless list of cute girls I’ve seen in my life.” Josh stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited silently for Sam’s judgment.

Sam snorted, though, dispelling the distinct aura of judgment. Josh was quite used to that aura. And he knew when it was gone too. “Oh, right,” Sam snickered. “I found that one too.” She pulled Josh’s discarded List of Cute Girls from one of the right-hand drawers.

“So rude, Sammy,” he repeated. “ _So_ rude.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who put my name only slightly above random girl from Subway who might be named Allison. Now who’s rude?” She asked. “Well, at least I’m above Natalie Portman. That’s a surprise.” She wasn’t serious, but Josh couldn’t help but be baited into defending his honor.

“Okay, I know you’re making fun of me, but let it be known that my list is not arranged in any particular order, okay? Let’s get that straight,” Josh clarified, holding his hands up in defense. “And I was talking about Samwise Gamgee, the bravest and cutest hobbit of them all.”

Sam smiled sweetly and offered the list back to Josh. “If you say so.”

Josh snatched the list back and stuffed it in his pocket roughly. “I do say so.”

When Sam continued grinning at him, he crossed his arms defensively. “Why are you even here? Don’t you hate me too? Wouldn’t your parents flip if they knew you were in my house?” He figured he might as well hear the truth of it. They could banter all day but he still had no idea why she was there.

Sam’s smile faltered and her eyes began wandering around his room. She was probably checking to make sure there weren’t any pointy objects. A disgruntled Josh was a potentially dangerous Josh, after all. No, he was being unfair. He was the one being weird. Finally, she looked at him. “I’m not sure, Josh. I came to find out.”

Deflating, Josh began kicking his laundry into a corner of the room so he could gather it later. “Yeah,” he supplied lamely. “That’s fine.”

“Honestly,” Sam pressed on, “you seem way more normal than I thought you would. I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

Josh shrugged. “We lizard people have become adept at wearing human skin and mimicking human culture convincingly.” He avoided looking at her. “And the meds help. Tones down the crazy. Can’t do nothin’ about me being an asshole, though.” He dropped a handful of shirts in his makeshift laundry pile. “You know what helps the most, though?”

“Hm?”

Josh turned and smiled sourly at her. “Never talking about it. Ever. And pretending the last two years didn’t happen. It’s a real cure-all, Sammy. You should try it.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah, been there. That didn’t exactly have the desired effect, I’m afraid. But hey, I’m willing to give it another shot.”

Josh’s smile turned genuine and he held an imaginary wine glass up to propose a fake toast. “May our worst moments be ignored to the point of nonexistence.”

Sam held up her own imaginary wine glass and they toasted across the room. “To ignoring the problem,” she added and tossed back the fake contents.

Josh held onto his own fake glass. “Woah there, Sammy, it isn’t even noon yet.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sam left shortly thereafter, off to her own therapy appointment. It didn’t sit well with him that she had her own Dr. Van Halen that tried to get her to think about and confront all of the bullshit swimming around in her head. All the others probably had their own Dr. Van Halens too. He wondered if they kept journals too. What would they write in them?

Ashley would probably write quotes from smart people talking about all the reasons she should be happy and look forward to the future. Josh couldn’t say whether she would do this ironically or not. He went both ways on that. Emily probably had a highly detailed list of all the reasons she hated Josh Washington and all of the creative ways she could ensure his death. Josh didn’t find this to be particularly unfair. Matt was probably too busy trying to claw his way through high school (poor bastard), so he probably straight up wouldn’t write one. If he did, though, it would be kind and saintly because Matt was a delight. Chris would write like, math formulas or chemical compounds because he’s a fucking nerd and it would probably make him feel better. Jessica probably doodled hearts and rainbows and the creatures from her nightmares or something equally terrifying. Mike was probably illiterate. Douchebag.

Josh made several more entries in his journal after Sam left.

 

 

>   * Josh learned that other people still exist and it cost him twelve minutes of fear.
> 

> 
>  
> 
>   * Sam learned that if you ignore the problem, it doesn’t exist, and it cost her a one-story climb up the side of the Washingtons’ house.
> 

> 
>  
> 
>   * ~~Emily learned that she wants Josh to godfather her future child and it cost her one vaguely translated text message.~~
> 


 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Josh spent the rest of the day stalking his subjects on social media. Honestly, everybody else did it, so he didn’t feel bad at all. He learned pretty quickly, though, that most of them seemed to have lost their appetite for social media sharing since The Incident ©. It made him a little queasy because anything that stops incessant teenage narcissistic bulshitting to anyone that will listen must have affected them all pretty bad. I mean, he _did_ kind of terrorize them. And they _were_ almost disemboweled by gangly rage monsters. Still.

Mike’s Facebook was the most active, but in a weird way. Every few days in the last couple of weeks, he would post some vague update about nothing in particular that could have easily been posted by a spam bot. They sounded like what someone would say over the phone to their parents when they’ve been kidnapped and have a gun to their head.

 

 

**Mike Munroe**

Feeling great today.

**Mike Munroe**

Can’t wait for lunch.

**Mike Munroe**

Looking forward to the weekend.

**Mike Munroe**

Doing pretty good.

 

 

Mike was probably not ‘doing pretty good’. Mike was either full of shit or he had a gun to his head. His Facebook read like a stockholm victim’s sleeptalking and his Twitter read like a random word generator.

 

 **mike** @munroe4prez

Nice day

 **mike** @munroe4prez

Football tonight maybe

 **mike** @munroe4prez

shit happens

 

 

Shit happens, indeed, Mike. Josh kind of wanted to call the police and have them check on him. Hello, operator? Please send an officer to Mike Munroe’s address (that's twitter user monroe, number 4, prez) because I think he might be dead in a car trunk somewhere and there’s a small, drunk elf updating his social media without his consent.

Mike needed to be checked on.

Jess suffered from a similar syndrome on her Facebook. All of her statuses were some iteration of “I’m tired”, which while extremely relatable, did not make for engaging social media exchanges.

Ashley had deleted all of her accounts. Wiped clean.

Chris never had any accounts to begin with (the government is watching, bro).

Emily had her accounts so heavily locked and guarded that Josh could practically see her scowling and hissing, “that means you, Josh”.

Matt hadn’t updated since The Incident ©.

Sam had apparently traveled the world in the last month, because her posts were filled with pictures of strange locations. She must have been alone, because there were never any people in her pictures. She was never in them, either. Josh wondered what she was looking for during all of that traveling. Answers, maybe. A distraction, more likely.

Without thinking too much, Josh deleted his neglected accounts. He had never really used them before The Incident © and he definitely wasn’t about to start. Deleting them was more housekeeping than anything.

Josh was going to have to get more creative if he wanted to fill up the pages of his journal. It was probably naïve of him to think that the others would post anything related to what had happened to them. All he had learned was that Mike was potentially dead, Jess was tired, and Emily still hated everyone.

Leaning back in his chair, Josh frowned at his dad’s laptop (borrowed temporarily without permission). His frowning was interrupted by the jarring ringtone of his phone. _Unknown4_ was lit up on his screen and he answered.

“Josh Washington enterprises, you’ve got Josh.”

“Didn’t actually think you would pick up.”

“Well I like to do the opposite of what people expect of me. You all expect me to be an asshole now, so I guess I have to be nice.”

“Now that _would_ be unexpected.”

“As much as I like being clever at each other – and don’t get me wrong, it really gets me going –what do you want, Sam?”

It sounded like Sam was doing something on the other end of the line. Cooking perhaps. Or maybe she just liked the soothing nighttime sounds of crashing pans and beeping ovens. To each their own.

“I was thinking about your diary.”

“Super personal, Sammy. So rude. I can’t believe you.”

“Shut it. I got to thinking that I haven’t done so great keeping up with the Kardashians, so to speak.”

“Jess can probably catch you up.”

“Shut it. I was wondering if you wanted some help getting the gang back together. Or at least finding out how they are. You get to finish your diary and I get to stop feeling guilty.”

“Guilty for what?”

“Things we agreed not to talk about.”

“Well now we’re talking about them. I know I don’t deserve to ask favors of you, but do me a favor and stop feeling guilty. I’ve got it covered, alright?”

Sam dropped something and cursed loudly. Josh had to wait several minutes before the scrambled sounds of someone picking the phone back up prickled in his ear. “Sorry. My life is a mess. Literally and metaphorically.”

“Yeah, same.”

“Anyways, do you want help or not?”

“Sure.”

“I’m coming over tomorrow and we’re gonna go find Chris.”

“Sure.”

“Make sure there’s food in your house.”

“Sure.”

“Take your meds.”

“Sure.”

“Do your laundry too.”

“Sure.”

“And take my car for an oil change.”

“Sure.”

“Josh you aren’t listening to me.”

“Sure.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure.”

“I’m wearing nothing whatsoever.”

“Hey me too, let’s make a night of it.”

“Goodnight Josh.”

“Sleep tight, Sammy.”

She sighed heavily before ending the call. Josh understood. He was pretty sigh-worthy in all honestly. He wasn’t good at talking on the phone. Or paying attention. Or being considerate. He tried, though, and that was all that mattered.

Josh gathered his laundry pile and shoved it into the washing machine down the hall without bothering to sort the colors. If fate wanted his undershirts to be pink, who was he to intervene? Also, that was an extra two minutes he just didn’t have. He was almost late for dinner with himself again and it was way too late to cancel that. Josh would never understand. Manners.

Dinner with himself was a modest affair, but he had the best company so it proved to be an enjoyable evening nonetheless. Before going to bed, Josh scribbled a few things down in his journal. What a weird day. What a weird week. And it was only getting weirder.

 

 

 

>   * Josh learned that he still cares and it cost him his peace and quiet.
> 

> 
>  
> 
>   * Sam learned that if she reads his journal again or is perchance reading it right now, Josh will find out and she will pay dearly. Seriously, Sam. Rude.
> 

> 
>  
> 
>  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sam is so rude.
> 
> so, so rude.
> 
> (next chapter: josh gets in a car, but what his parents don't know, won't kill them)
> 
> p.s. thanks for the comments u all so nice to me. i'll try and update at least every two or three days. if i don't, assume the worst.


	3. stars and choo-choo trains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keep your eyes on the road and your feet on the ground for best results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 a.m. is as good a time as any.
> 
> welcome to bad writing habits anonymous, my name is indigo and it's been four years since i last proofread anything i've written.
> 
> enjoy my typos.

 

That night Josh was killed roughly 30 times in his dreams, which was honestly pretty unfortunate. He was averaging like 6 brutal deaths per night, so he considered 30 to be a mild abnormality. Sam featured heavily in his dreams. Not like, in a sexy way, which would have been weird but fine. No, in most of them she was wearing his psycho-overalls and she chased him down and brutally murdered him with an axe. Repeatedly. And okay, Josh thought he deserved to be brutally murdered with an axe maybe once or twice, but thirty times in one night was a bit excessive. Emily had also gotten a few whacks in during the night and he thinks maybe Matt tried to exorcise him at one point, but he couldn’t remember it that well.

Suffice it to say, Josh _really_ didn’t want to go to therapy or hang out with Sam or do much of anything when he woke up in the morning. Dr. Van Halen might suggest that dream-Matt was right and they should try to exorcise Beelzebub from his cold, cold heart. Sam might show up in overalls and murder him for the thirty-first time (enough already). In summary, he did not want to see either of them. Unfortunately, Josh’s life mostly sucked so he knew those were the exact two people he was going to have to see that day. Oh well.

Josh put his shirt on backwards again and considered leaving it that way, but Dr. Van Halen would _not_ find it funny like Sam would. Dr. Van Halen would want to talk about it. In depth. This would combine two of Josh’s worst nightmares: in depth talking and Van Halen. Unacceptable. He turned his shirt around the right way and threw a jacket on before shuffling out of the house.

Oh great, another beautiful day. Josh fished some sunglasses out of his pocket and jammed them on his face to block out the cheerfulness. He didn’t want to catch it. The only thing that would be more concerning to Dr. Van Halen than Josh being in a foul mood would be Josh being in a cheerful mood. The last time he had been in a cheerful mood was when he had been planning to disembowl himself in front of his friends in a brilliant but admittedly super fucked up prank. Not a great track record for cheerful Josh. But the sunglasses really completed his don’t-let-your-kids-near-that-weird-man look, which was warranted. Technically, he was doing society a favor by dressing the part. Josh looked up from his feet just in time to see a young mother cross to the opposite side of the street with her two toddlers a half a block in front of him. See? It was working.

He walked the usual route to his therapist’s office, which Josh estimated was about 13 miles (google estimated about 1.75 miles, but agree to disagree). After walking his half-marathon, Josh wasn’t really in the mood for polite eye contact or apparently looking where he was going. Immediately upon colliding with the girl leaving his therapist’s office, Josh began babbling apologies. These died pretty quickly when he caught sight of one of the unhappiest Emilys he had ever encountered. And let’s face it: Josh had encountered many different unhappy Emilys in his lifetime.

Emily gaped at him in silent rage for what felt like an eternity, but was probably more like three seconds. Those three seconds were enough time for Josh to have a vivid flashback to being chopped to pieces by a murderous dream Emily. This Emily was at least a thousand times more frightening. At least she looked healthy-ish.

“Er, hi, Emily,” he tried. “You’re looking…radiant. And…not happy to see me,” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

Josh would swear that Emily’s eyes literally caught fire. Oh, you know, now that Josh thought back on it, it had been  _Emily_ that Matt was trying to exorcise in his dream. That made sense.

If Josh had been more athletic or less doped up on happy pills he might have seen the backswing of Emily’s expensive-looking, very large bag as it came up to collide with the left side of his face. But Josh was not athletic, and his pills were as happy as ever.

Boom.

Stars.

Josh made a sound similar to what he imagined a man might make when he belly-flopped into a pool from a height high enough to kill him. It was completely unattractive and involuntary and holy shit what was in Emily’s bag that made it so damn heavy.

When the little stars and choo-choo trains had stopped dancing comically around his head, Josh realized he was flat on his ass. He watched sadly as two Emilys departed blurrily down the sidewalk without so much as a backward glance.

“Nice to see you too, Emily!” He called after her when she had finally blurred back into one person.

Emily called back without turning around. “Eat a dick, Josh.”

Josh frowned off into the distance, remaining dejectedly on his ass and feeling just a little put out. His jaw felt like a bag of broken glass and while Emily had never been his biggest fan, it upset him a little more than he thought it would that she wanted him to ingest penises.

“Ow,” he finally managed. His voice was small and pathetic, kind of like he was. ‘ _You’re looking radiant today’_? What the fuck was _that_? He was lucky he had only gotten a rock-hard bag to the face. The ground was where he belonged. He could live there now. Maybe the next time they repaved the sidewalk, they could just pave over him. He could be a little shrine to the futility of seeking undeserved forgiveness.

Okay, that was a little dramatic, but he needed a few minutes to pout before facing Dr. Van Halen. Right in synch with Josh’s luck that day, though, the door flew open behind him and the man himself came hurrying to Josh’s side. Damnit.

“Oh my god, I’m _so_ sorry Josh. Are you okay?” He asked gently, kneeling down beside him. “I’ve never forgotten to keep your appointments separate before. I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “Oh my goodness.”

Josh sniffed and sounded just a little more pathetic then he intended to. “Nah, it’s cool. That was probably the most therapeutic thing you could have done for her,” he sighed. Dr. Van Halen didn’t look too happy to hear that, so Josh tried pulling a small smile, despite the tenderness in his general facial region. “How about you salary me and I’ll come in once a week to let her beat the shit out of me? She’ll be your best success story yet.” No dice, Dr. Van Halen looked even sadder. “And who knows, maybe when they invent cloning, you can salary my clone so I have someone that _I_ hate who I can beat up. That would be a dream come true.”

Shit.

Somehow or another Josh had choked up and started half-crying which was the most uncool thing he could have possibly done.

Goddamnit.

Fuck.

Dr. Van Halen lowered himself to the sidewalk and sat there rubbing Josh’s back and Josh hated himself more for not knowing the guy’s goddamn name. Pull it together, man. Josh took a deep breath and wiped his jacket sleeve across his eyes. “What can I say, she hits hard,” he concluded, lamely. “I’m a sensitive soul. I don’t think those happy pills are working too well, doc.”

“I’m sorry, Josh. I’m really sorry.” If Dr. Van Halen was a broken record, then Josh was the weirdo who left it on. He liked having someone else be sorry. It felt good. Being the one who had to be sorry all the time was pretty fucking exhausting. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Josh snorted. “Nah, I think I deserved that one. The next one can be considered mildly rude, though. Can we go inside now?”

Dr. Van Halen nodded and pulled Josh gently to his feet. When he stepped back, though, he was giving Josh a curious look. The dude definitely had something he wanted to say. Or maybe he wasn’t sure whether to say it or not.

“What’s up doc?” Josh prompted. “Is my face busted up?”

“No, I think you’ll be fine, Josh,” Dr. Van Halen said. “I just…” there was that look again. Finally, he squared his shoulders and gave Josh a stern, but kind look. “Josh, you need to know that _you’re_ allowed to hurt too. You didn’t lose that right. You’re recovering, not serving penance.”

“Well,” Josh deflected, “that’s good news. Because my jaw hurts like a son of a bitch.” He rubbed it for emphasis. “Think we could reschedule this one?”

“Yeah. We can do that, Josh.”

 

* * *

 

 

At the very least, Emily got Josh out of therapy for the day. He wasn’t exactly scrambling to thank her for it, but at least his poor, tender face hadn’t suffered for naught. And anyways, he felt a little better leaving than he had arriving. Which was weird. Maybe Emily knocked a few of his loose screws back in place. Or maybe she knocked a few more loose? That would have been pretty bad because Josh was running out of screws. Either way, he was a marginally happier camper.

Unfortunately, he had to turn around and do another half-marathon back to his house. Mathematically, that was a full-marathon. And scientifically, that was a pain in the ass. God, Josh missed cars.

When he hit that midway Walgreens, Josh decided he needed something cold for his poor face. Movies had led him to believe he needed either a raw steak or a bag of frozen peas. Impractical, maybe, but Hollywood knows best. Shockingly, Walgreens did not have any raw steaks. But they also didn’t have any frozen peas, which was just plain irresponsible. Peas are so healthy. Josh wasn’t sure what to do with the discovery of Walgreen’s conspiracy to withhold nutrients from the public, so he just kept it to himself. Instead, he ended up with a half-gallon of chocolate milk. But he knew just who to dramatically implicate in his cholesterol-related death in the future. Walgreens would face justice. Just not today.

So Josh wandered towards home, his now-crooked sunglasses perched off kilter on his face. He alternated between holding the milk carton to his face and taking swigs from it. What a spectacle.

He was halfway through the milk and feeling a little less than kosher when a car slowed to a crawl next to him. “You honestly look like a vagrant, Josh.”

It was a rare day when Josh wasn’t in the mood for banter. “I’m a vagabond, Sammy. A tumbleweed. A lone ranger and a mystery man,” Josh returned, not even bothering to slow his pace or spare her a look. “But vagrant? Hardly.”

Sam let her car crawl along next to him while he stumbled in the general direction of home. “Is that milk whispering the secrets of the universe to you?”

Josh held the milk carton a little higher up on his face to more effectively block his own face from her view. “Yeah. It says that 9/11 was planned by our government and the sun is a capitalist invention created to sell sunscreen,” he said from behind the milk. “Also, your parents are fake and I’m an alien.”

Sam said nothing for a few minutes but continued matching his pace. Josh understood. The secrets of the universe were a lot to take in all at once. “You’re still on your meds, right?” She finally asked, a little too seriously for Josh’s tastes.

Josh heaved an unnecessarily loud sigh and lowered the milk carton from his face. He let his head roll dramatically to the side and gave Sam his best condescending look. “I’d have to be _off_ meds to think 9/11 _wasn’t_ a conspiracy.”

When Sam’s car jerked to a stop, Josh gave her the courtesy of stopping as well. “What happened to your face?” She asked with genuine concern.

That bad, huh? Great. Now he was ugly and crazy.

Making his way over to Sam’s stopped car, Josh tried to shrug sheepishly but only really pulled off a pained grimace. “You should see the other guy.”

“The other guy,” Sam repeated.

“Er, the other Emily, rather,” Josh amended, crouching down to lean his elbows on the passenger side window ledge. “You should see how badly I _didn’t_ beat her up. Really showed her.”

Sam gave him a sad smile. “You really need to learn how to pick your fights better.”

“I think...that's probably always been true,” Josh laughed, returning her sad smile. He set his chin on the window ledge and they sat in meaningful silence for a few moments. They were dangerously close to having an emotionally vulnerable conversation, though, so Josh let out a little laugh. “But what’s a clumsy guy to do, eh? I had no idea she went to the same therapist as me. And I definitely didn’t know I was going to literally run into her there.”

“Emily’s parents were the ones who suggested your therapist. You know, under threat of pressing charges or whatever,” Sam said. “But you know, I had thought…” Sam trailed off, her gaze locked on a car approaching them from the opposite direction. She watched it as it passed them, then turned in her seat to watch it disappear down the road. “Get in the car. Quick!”

Josh lifted his head from her car window. “What’s going on?”

Sam pounded lightly on her steering wheel. “Hurry up! That’s Chris’s car. Let’s follow him!” She motioned impatiently for him to get in.

While Josh _did_ miss cars, he felt a little hesitant. “Uh, I’m not really supposed to drive anywhere,” Josh mumbled. He was also a little terrified at the prospect of seeing Chris again. It wasn’t that Chris was a terrifying guy. But Josh had hazy memories of socking Chris’s girl in the face. Not exactly his bro-est moment.

“Get in the damn car, Josh.”

“Oh dear,” Josh sighed, lowering himself gingerly into the passenger seat. “Go easy on me, Sammy. I’ve already been socked in the face and accidentally burst into tears in front of my therapist today. Be gentle, please.”

In response, Sam flung Josh against his window with a dangerous and highly illegal U-turn at an irresponsible speed. His parents would go into cardiac arrest if they knew what Josh had consented to. Josh hugged his half-empty milk carton for dear life. They sped off around the block, Sam paying little attention to Josh’s complaints. “Where the hell is he?” She muttered, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

Josh propped his feet up on the dashboard. “Why don’t you just call him?” He asked irritably. “He’s not mad at _you_.”

“Got him,” Sam said, ignoring Josh completely. “Two cars ahead. I’d recognize that ugly green car anywhere.” She sped up and Josh hugged his milk carton tighter, closing his eyes. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to see his death coming. If he had learned anything during The Incident © it was that looking death in the eye is ill advised. Nothing quite like dangling by your throat from the clutches of your monster sister before she eats your face off to put things in perspective for you.

Of course, having his eyes closed to death meant that Josh didn’t see when Sam jerked the wheel sideways and slammed on the brakes. Josh’s forehead collided with the window. Hard.

Boom.

Stars.

“Fuck, Sam!” Josh cursed, wrapping his arms around his head. “I told you to be gentle, ya lunatic!” He rubbed angrily at his poor, poor aching head. He was seriously running low on screws to knock loose. He glared at her from beneath his arms and found the traitor covering a smile with her hand. “ _Ouch_!” He added.

“Sorry!” She laughed. She was not sorry. So cruel.

They were stopped at a red light and Sam’s audition for the next Fast & Furious movie had gotten them up one car behind and one car over from Chris’s. “Well I hope getting one car closer to Chris was worth what little is left of my brain.”

“Your sacrifice is noted,” Sam said, flashing him a smile that was way too genuine. She was good.

“Alright, Tokyo Drift, eyes on the road.”

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow they made it in one piece to Chris’s apparent destination. Chris had led them on a merry chase that Sam had enjoyed way too much. Josh was pretty sure he had shit out his heart at one point, but once he had completely dissolved into a puddle, the rest of the ride was fine. Turned out that drinking a half a gallon of milk was one of Josh’s worst ideas to date, which was saying _a lot_. Sam was impressed that he had managed it without upchucking all over her car. He was mostly still alive when Chris had finally pulled into the parking lot of some run-down shopping mall.

Sam had parked way too close to Chris’s car, so they both had to duck down behind the dashboard when Chris had gotten out. He walked right past them while Sam and Josh bickered in quiet, hissing accusations.

“Why are we hiding?” Sam gestured a little too high above her head, hands breaching the safety of her dashboard.

Josh grabbed her arms and forced them back down. “You’re the one who tailed him like a fucking creep. I wanted to call him!”

“I was just trying to make _you_ lighten up. Now get out of my car and go talk to him,” she insisted, trying unsuccessfully to pull her wrists from Josh’s grasp.

“We’re beyond words, Sammy. We’ve followed him this far.” Sam stopped trying to pull her wrists from him and raised a judgmental eyebrow at him. “We’ve tailed him. And now we have to kill him.”

Sam’s already quiet voice dropped to a barely-there whisper. “Oh my god, guess what?” She leaned in so close that their foreheads were nearly touching.

“What?”

“You’re really dumb.”

Josh dropped her wrists finally and sat back up in his seat, grinning like an idiot. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. But let me work up to it. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it my way,” he reasoned. This was actually relatively terrible reasoning, because Josh’s way usually went horribly, horribly wrong.

Sam held her hands up in surrender. “Fine.”

Josh began scheming the best way to completely fuck this up.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: josh completely fucks this up (and chris gets even)
> 
>  
> 
> hope you are all enjoying my word vomit. im certainly enjoying your patience with it. 
> 
> if you have questions, suggestions, or u want to just kind of give me a judgmental look, i can track the tag "balance book fic" on tumblr.
> 
> cheers, friends.


	4. the cardinal rule of dark places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stop hitting josh 2k15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sure imma update over the weekend. gon' be drunk as hell when i write it tho.
> 
> forgive me.

 

One immaculately conceived plan later, and Josh and Sam were tailing Chris so poorly and so creepily that Josh was sure a guy on a segway was going to roll up and ask them to leave. Then they would have to explain to Paul Blart that they were only stalking poor Chris for completely legitimate reasons that Josh had yet to figure out or articulate to Sam. A perfectly logical excuse that would get them expelled from the mall faster than if he had literally robbed Chris at gunpoint.

Obviously the reason they were such poor excuses for private investigators was that Sam’s heart didn’t seem to be in it. She had let Josh take the lead, ducking behind clothing racks and sidling behind corners around every turn. Instead of mirroring him, though, she just kind of slouched along with her arms crossed impatiently. Occasionally Josh would clear his throat pointedly, Sam would roll her eyes, and conceal herself badly in whatever ill-conceived hiding spot Josh had suggested.

When Chris stopped at the food court, Josh tried pulling Sam behind a large, fake fern and Sam finally put her foot down. Josh wished she could put her foot down a little more quietly.

“Josh, is this your plan? So far we’ve watched Chris buy new undershirts, get gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, and order overpriced Lo Mein.”

Josh considered the criticism and nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I see your point. He’s probably on to us, huh? Playing it casual until he can shake us.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. That was definitely my point. We need to avoid Chris _harder_.” Sam’s arms were crossed and okay it was like she wasn’t even _trying_ to stay hidden.

“You know, Sammy, I can’t help but feel you’re not giving me 100% effort here,” Josh accused. “I told you I have a plan.” He didn’t. She was right. But how dare she.

Sam shook her head. “We are honestly going to get arrested. Well, you are anyways. Either take off those sunglasses and put your hood down or go buy us some food so we can sit at a table like normal, non-terrorist people. Those are your options or I’m dragging your ass over to Chris right now.” The look on her face was far from joking.

Josh threw his hands up in frustration. “Fine! Just know that you’re jeopardizing this entire mission. Chris is going to find us and my plan will be ruined and it will be your fault,” he added childishly, stalking off to buy food from the least conspicuous food stand. His hood and sunglasses remained in place, though.

“You look like the Unabomber!” Sam called after him. Loudly. So unprofessional.

Josh shot a venomous look behind him, doing nothing to alleviate the general aura around him that screamed terrorist plot in progress. It wasn’t even worth it, because Sam had already gone off to find a table. All he managed to do was cause some middle-aged woman at a nearby table to place a concerned hand over her heart. Josh thought this was enormously unfair concerning he hadn’t plotted anything resembling a terrorist plan since…well, like two months ago. Whatever.

When he had (stealthily) made his way to the counter of some unidentified vendor, Josh dropped $10 on the counter. “Food,” he demanded.

The kid at the counter looked extremely uncomfortable. “Pretty sunny out today, huh?” He laughed nervously, gesturing at Josh’s skewed sunglasses.

Josh frowned.

“Er, what can I get you?” The kid tried instead.

Josh shook his head. “I literally don’t care. I’m here against my will.”

They stared at each other for a few more seconds. Slowly, the cashier turned to look behind him for backup, but the only other one behind the counter was some portly man scrubbing weeks-old grease from a fryer. Turning back around, the kid tried to offer Josh a polite smile that Josh did not accept or return. Not in the mood.

“Alright, well, we’ll just do a few sodas and a basket of fries, shall we?”

Grunt.

“Okay then.”

Josh leaned against the counter while the hapless cashier bustled away. He didn’t have time to be polite. Sam was busy blowing their cover and Josh was busy stewing about the fact that he really didn’t have a plan. Truth was, he was terrified of talking to Chris. What the fuck would he say to him? How he had ever thought they would all have a good laugh about Josh getting fake sawed in half and socking Ashley in the face was beyond him. Most of last year was beyond him. Looking back was like watching a movie about someone else. And that someone else was constantly bumbling into horrible scenarios that were easily preventable. Josh _hated_ movies like that, but had somehow managed to star in one. Fuck.

Chris was on the other end of the food court, scrolling absently through his phone and picking at his food. Fuck.

“Sir?”

Josh whipped around. “What?” He snapped.

The kid jumped and scattered coins across the counter. “S-sorry, sir. Here’s your food and uh, let me clean that up,” he stuttered, clumsily gathering the change.

Josh grabbed the tray. “Keep the change,” he muttered. A few steps from the counter, he stopped and turned slightly back. “Uh, thanks,” he added. Okay he felt a little bad that the poor kid looked like he had pissed himself. And yeah, that was a little insulting, but whatever. He wasn’t admitting that Sam was right, but he accidentally saw his own reflection in a chrome wall panel and thought _maybe_ he could have looked _kind of_ like the Unabomber. Potentially.

He slouched back over to Sam (stealthily) and dropped the tray in front of her (less stealthily). “Food,” he clarified.

“Thanks Ted,” she said with the sweetest, fakest smile Josh had probably ever seen.

He dropped unceremoniously into the chair across from her. “That’s Mr. Kaczynski to you, princess.” He dropped his head into his hand and began drumming his fingers absently on the table.

Sam pushed the tray towards him. “Eat.”

“Nah.”

She pushed it closer to him. “You look like Skeletor. I think the kid at the cash register thought you were undead.”

Grumbling, Josh shoved a handful of fries in his mouth.

Across the food court, Chris laughed at something on his phone. Josh wanted to throw up he was so anxious. “I don’t have a plan, Sammy,” he said glumly.

“I know.”

Josh frowned. “No, this is a complete surprise to you.”

“Fine.”

Josh poked absently at the fries until Sam chastised him for germs or something. There was no way he was going to be able to eat. His face hurt and he was out of ideas. “I had a dream about you last night,” he said just for the sake of saying something.

“Ohoho?” Sam raised an eyebrow suggestively. “What kind of dream.”

Josh returned the look. “It was…pretty hot stuff, Sammy. Just me, you, the light of the moon, and the axe you murdered me with upwards of 30 times during the night.”

Sam made a sound like a violently clogging toilet and began coughing up her soda. Luckily the hapless cashier had put a wad of napkins on Josh’s tray. Smiling apologetically, Josh offered Sam the entire stack.

After a solid minute of choking, Sam was able to take a few unimpeded breaths. “Very hot,” she wheezed. “Very inappropriate.”

Josh laughed. “You seemed to enjoy it. Personally? Didn’t really do it for me. Felt a little one-sided, but-“ he cut himself off abruptly as he caught sight of Chris getting up from his table in the distance. “Shit, Chris is getting up.” He raised his shoulders up to his ears in a feeble attempt to disguise himself further. “What should I do, Sammy?” He asked miserably.

“Go talk to him? Say hello?”

Josh made a distressed noise.

“Follow him around some more?”

So they did.

 

* * *

 

 

They followed Chris around the shoe store (no purchase). They followed Chris around an electronics store (one purchase). They followed Chris to the bathroom (no purchase). And they followed him back to his car.

Josh was positive by that point that he would just have to catch Chris on the flipside. The flipside being the afterlife. Sam, however, was less inclined to admit defeat so they continued following Chris in her car. Of course, they were both silently aware that this trip could only end at Chris’s house, which would be absolutely the most awkward place to finally confront him. Neither one felt much like pointing that out, though. But the two of them were really quite good at not pointing out things that needed to be pointed out. The maneuver was quite successful, as always. Good job, team, hit the showers.

Things were going stupendously awful up until they hit the manned tollbooth before the exit to Chris’s house. They had nearly driven themselves off of a metaphorical cliff successfully without saying a single word about it. But when Sam pulled up after Chris to pay the attendant, the illusion was shattered.

“Guy in front of you paid for you too,” the attendant said. He was an older guy with a stupid mustache and an out-of-state drawl. “Asked me to tell ya to quit followin’ him already.” He waved them on impatiently, but Sam stayed there gaping at him. Josh gaped too. It was a team effort.

The attendant waved more insistently, and Sam finally pulled away, a look of sheer horror on her face. “Shit.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Josh repeated.

Sam accelerated at a crawl, but Chris had kept his pace painfully slow to allow them to catch up. She shrank into the back of her seat as they gained on him.

Josh threw his hands up in frustration. “I can’t believe you got us caught.” He glared out the window, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes. The last thing he wanted when he was being a hypocrite was to be accused of being a hypocrite.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” she said sourly. “Oh, great, Chris is pulling over. Shit. Fight or flight, your call.”

Josh wasn’t sure which category lighting oneself on fire fell into.  Whichever category _that_ fell into, he chose that one. “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly, feeling small and breakable. He waited miserably while Sam pulled off the road behind Chris. They both remained in their seats while Chris climbed out of his car. Instead of approaching them, though, he stood beside his car with his arms crossed. His expression was hard to read, so Josh just decided it was a murderous one. It was a safe bet.

Josh unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly pushed his door open. “Uh, you should probably wait here,” he said warily. “Only one of us has to die today.” Pulling himself from the car, Josh began shuffling slowly towards a stern-looking Chris. That in itself was bad news. Anything other than a goofy Chris was bad news. Josh kept his eyes on his feet instead, inching slowly in the general direction of Chris.

“Uh, hey…buddy,” Josh practically whimpered. “Fancy running into you here. Complete coincidence. Small world.”

Silence.

Shit.

“I was just telling Sam how weird-“

Now, just to clarify, Josh conceded that what happened next was probably coming to him. And yeah, it was a long time coming. And yeah, Josh had followed him. And yeah, Josh would have given Chris a free shot in a heartbeat any other day of the week. But like, Josh had already been hit in the face twice that day and it was hard to find the third one anything except unfair. But Josh managed.

Boom.

Stars.

Strike three.

Josh was out.

He stared up at a cloud shaped kind of like a dog and waited for his faculties to reassemble. His nose felt broken. Chris’s face appeared above him, smug, but concerned.

“That,” Chris said proudly, “was for Ashley.”

Josh blinked up at him in response.

Chris nodded firmly like he was reassuring himself of this. Meanwhile, Josh was waiting for Chris to curb-stomp his head off for good measure. Instead of curb-stomping his head off, though, Chris reached down and pulled Josh to his feet. Suddenly vertical, Josh swayed slightly, his head a throbbing mess and his brain a pile of goo. Chris held him up, though, and dusted his jacket off a little before patting Josh’s chest affectionately.

Affectionately?

Chris was giving him a weirdly kind look. Josh had officially run out of screws to knock loose. They were all loose. His mind was a hardware store bin full of assorted screws, $3 per pound. But Chris hugged him anyways. Hard.

Josh just let his poor aching face get crushed against Chris’s shoulder. Oh god, Josh hadn’t been hugged like that in months and if Chris didn’t knock it the fuck off, he was gonna fucking cry again. Luckily, Chris held him there long enough for Josh to get a fucking grip on himself. With a final, hearty pat on the back, Chris released him and held him at arms length.

“And that,” Chris said warmly. “Was for me.”

“Any other surprises for me?” Josh asked with a blurry smile, still a little wobbly on his feet. He could feel his nose dripping and reached up to examine the blood making a mess of his face. Oh his poor nose. He hoped it wasn’t broken.

Shaking his head, Chris held out a tissue for him. “No more surprises. We’re even, bro. We’re good.” Josh felt a little better that Chris looked a bit like he also wanted to cry. “We’re all good.”

Instead of wiping his own face, Josh reached out and dabbed at the small bloodstain on Chris’s shoulder from their hug. Well, he mostly just made it worse. Oops. “Not yet we’re not. Kinda feelin’ like I owe you one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

Josh looked up from his shoes and gave Chris a sheepish, bloody smile. “Yeah. Something like an ‘I’m sorry’.”

Chris handed Josh a few more tissues, nodding thoughtfully. “Hmm, guess I might owe you something like that too. Or we can count the apologies as cancelling each other out and let it all just be water under the bridge.”

A few feet away, Sam was frozen half-out of her car, a look of muted horror still frozen on her face. She looked kind of ready to throw down if it came to it, which Josh thought was pretty flattering. He wondered how bad it had looked when he got decked. Probably pretty bad. Which was super embarrassing because Chris was such a nerd. And Josh had been positively flattened. Ugh.

Josh hummed in agreement, face too tender for excessive talking. “Sure thing, bro. You know how I like uh…letting water go under bridges and stuff. I’m the _king_ of not holding on to grudges.” He spit a wad of blood on the ground. “Not about that revenge life.”

Chris rolled his eyes, but pulled Josh in for another, marginally less painful hug. “You’re an idiot.”

Josh returned this hug, squeezing the fabric on the back of Chris’s jacket. He sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of a long day and three good whacks to the face. Mostly the face pummeling. “I was in a dark place there, brother,” he murmured into Chris’s shoulder. “Still trying to climb out, actually.”

Chris let out a single laugh, jostling Josh’s face a little. Ouch. “You forgot the cardinal rule of dark places, dude,” Chris said, holding Josh back out at arm’s length again.

Josh stared at the even larger blood stain on Chris’s shoulder. Double oops. “Cardinal rule of dark places, eh? What’s that?”

Patting the side of Josh's face gently (still ouch), Chris gave him a goofy grin. “Buddy system, bro.”

 

And no, Josh absolutely did not tear up and he remained completely stoic thank you very much.

 

* * *

 

 

When Sam finally dropped Josh off late that night, he snuck into his house, hoping his parents weren’t home. Josh had a strict curfew on account of being a fucking lunatic. But his parents _were_ home. And his sneaking spooked his dad. And his dad elbowed him in the face.

Boom.

Stars.

“Fucking _Christ_!” Josh cursed, arms wrapped around his head. “Would you all quit _hitting me!_ ” He danced around, writhing in agony. “Fuck!”

Mr. Washington looked appropriately mortified, both by elbowing his son in the face and his son’s atrocious language. “You scared me,” Mr. Washington mumbled, reaching out to hold Josh still from his angry fidgeting. “Where the hell were you?” He looked…well, terrified actually. Like he really didn’t expect to see Josh ever again. And he looked none too happy about that. “I…I didn’t know what to do. Who to call.” He had huge circles under his eyes and looked twenty years older than Josh remembered him being.

Shit, Josh had left his phone in his room.

“Please tell me next time,” his dad whispered.

And Josh figured what the hell. He pulled his dad in for a hug because he hadn’t done that in like two years and he was feeling generous. It felt right.

Buddy system, right?

That night Josh scribbled a brief entry in his journal, took approximately 7 ibuprophen and let his headaches lull him to sleep.

 

>   * _Josh learned that if you’re going to go to a dark place, you best bring a buddy and it cost him four concussions._
> 


 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a firm believer in the buddy system.
> 
> i'm also really hungover.
> 
> (next chapter: josh walks about 500 miles)
> 
> drop me a line on tumblr if you want to chat (coldmackerel). my inbox eats non-private messages most of the time tho.


	5. the best responsibility is the one you can't fulfill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seriously, don't give josh any responsibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> confession #1: i accidentally had vegan sam drink a milkshake last chapter and had to go back and change it. i have soiled everything she stands for.
> 
> confession #2: i lied about what this chapter is going to be about. unreliable and untrustworthy.
> 
> anyways.
> 
> it's a double-length chapter because i couldn't split it up evenly.
> 
> this chapter has been brought to you by Dos Equis and the thesis im supposed to be defending. procrastinate responsibly.

 

Josh thought there were few things more refreshing than waking up for the first time in a week without feeling like someone had been practicing drum solos on his face all night. He had downed enough ibuprophen that week to burn a hole front to back through his midriff. But don’t worry, he hadn’t. He checked.

Looking in the mirror, though, did not prove as promising towards his healing process as a simple lack of pain had. Josh shook his head sadly at his own reflection. He looked like he had gone twenty rounds with Andre the Giant with his hands tied behind his back. He had like twelve black eyes at least. They were just stacked one on top of the other because he only had real estate for two black eyes. His nose had thankfully not been broken. Either way, he looked even more unapproachable to the wholesome neighborhood population than he had before last week. He _had_ successfully been offered what he assumed was heroin by some guy wearing a Bull’s jersey yesterday in the alley behind Walgreens. At least he had nailed _that_ look. That was a fun new experience.

And no, he had not accepted the potential heroin, Sam. She always assumed the worst.

As a matter of fact, he had purposely turned down the mystery heroin because he had been given a responsibility for the first time in just about forever. Also heroin is really bad, don’t do heroin. But the primary reason was because Chris had entrusted him with a super important task. And while Josh really didn’t want to be trusted with anything, Chris had presented the task like a gift-wrapped present. Josh didn’t want to crush him especially since he had found out that Chris had a killer right hook (ouch). So, against his better judgment, he had agreed with fake enthusiasm to deliver Ashley’s homework to her while Chris was out of town on some nerd thing. He hadn’t really been listening that well.

Josh wasn’t dumb, though. Sam had spilled the beans to Chris about his diary and his general stalking of everyone he had lost touch with. The way Josh figured it, Chris’s favor he had trusted Josh with was either intended to get him and Ashley talking again or to get him alone in a room with Ashley so she could finally take the revenge he suspected she wanted. Sure, Chris had popped him good for her. But did that really make him and Ashley even? Doubtful.

She had stabbed him once already, though, so Josh figured anything beyond that would feel routine and well-deserved. What was she gonna do: stab him again? Big deal. No, the truly terrifying outcome would be if Ashley wanted to have a heart to heart or something. Dear god, anything but that.

But something had driven Josh to accept the errand. He had mentioned it offhand to Sam and she had accredited it to his subconscious hope to be stabbed again. Thanks, Sam. Unfortunately, he suspected it was something way worse than that: he wanted to be forgiven. That was just about the most pathetic thing Josh had ever subconsciously wanted. And it was never going to happen.

He hoped he really just subconsciously wanted to be stabbed.

Shuffling downstairs, Josh spotted his mother fiddling with their expensive coffee maker. The folder and workbook that constituted Ashley’s homework sat on his counter where he had left it two days ago. Menacingly. His mom had asked him to put it in his room, but he hadn’t been able to come up with a non-psychotic way to tell her that if he touched it Ashley would be summoned to that location. He just left it there.

Sitting down quietly, Josh set his chin on the counter and proceeded to lose a staring contest with Ashley’s homework. There was no reason this had to be as hard as he was making it out to be.

Mrs. Washington turned around and jumped clean out of her skin at the sight of him. Thanks, mom. “Honestly, Josh, don’t sneak up on me,” she said, her free hand pressed hard against her heart. “Oh, dear, are you sure your face is okay?”

“Yeah why? Is it killing you?” He joked irritably. He knew how he looked. Depraved, unstable, and really incredibly bad at picking fights. These were all true, but how dare she.

She gave him a stern look. “Don’t be juvenile, Josh. I’m just worried.”

Josh just grunted and pulled his hood up so she didn’t have to see the bruising as much. Ashley’s homework glared at him two feet away. He glared back. Two could play at that game.

“Why do you keep glaring at that folder?” Mrs. Washington asked tiredly.

“I’m not,” Josh mumbled, dropping his gaze back to the countertop.

Ashley’s Homework: 1

Josh: 0

The sun stabbed at Josh’s eyes as it began peeking through the window above their sink. He pulled his hood down a little lower like the cave goblin he had accidentally become. Sighing with the weight of being related to Josh, Mrs. Washington dropped her half-full coffee cup into the sink and gathered her jacket. “Remember to take your phone with you if you go anywhere today.” Josh put his forehead on the counter and listened to his mother shuffle around the kitchen. She placed a quick kiss on the top of his hooded head before bustling out of the house to go solve problems that were solvable. He envied her for that.

Josh lifted his head and surveyed Ashley’s homework warily from underneath his hood. At least he knew where she lived. God knows he had driven Chris by there a million times only for Chris to chicken out. He had also actually spent quite a bit of time with her while Chris was being a fucking chicken. They had been something kind of like friends now that he thought about it. He liked Ashley. And he thought she kind of liked him too. Right up until he socked her in the face.

Fuck.

Well, it was just a homework dropoff anyways. Chris and Ashley were at the same nerd college and she had apparently been sick the last few days. Chris was being disgustingly nice and taking beautiful, articulate notes for her even though Josh knew Chris’s notes were usually messy, useless, and irreverent at times. Fucking sap.

Josh fished his crooked sunglasses from his pocket and put them on to combat the sun that was steadily creeping through the house. It helped cover his twelve black eyes anyways and he didn’t care to show up at Ashley’s house looking like an extra from Night of the Living Dead. Google would have estimated Ashley’s house to be about 2 miles away, so naturally Josh rounded this up to about 24 miles. He would have called Sam for a ride, but she had mentioned going to a cousin’s wedding or something. Chris was out of town. And all of his other friends still hated him. Guess he was walking.

Ashley’s homework did not, as it turned out, summon her to his side when he touched it. This was not as relieving as Josh thought it would be. This meant that he still had an estimated 2-24 mile walk ahead of him. Exercise was honestly the worst. Just terrible.

Josh’s phone buzzed on the counter.

 

> **_Unknown5:_ ** _u got Ashley’s address, right bro?_

 

Rolling his eyes, Josh tucked Ashley’s homework under his arm and tapped out a quick reply.

 

> **_Josh:_ ** _you underestimate how many times you made me drive over there for no reason_

 

> **_Unknown5:_ ** _harsh, but fair. thanks bro!_

Josh tucked his phone into his pocket like a good son, fulfilling his house arrest obligation to his parents. Now he just had to fulfill his obligation to Chris and he could go home and return to his goblin cave. Hell, maybe one of Ashley’s parents would come to the door and he could drop the homework with them. Ashley never had to know he was there. Unlikely, but Dr. Van Halen had told Josh that optimism was a good tool for hopeless heathens like himself (in nicer words).

So Josh optimistically dragged his heathen ass out of the house, armed with nothing but Ashley’s homework and a package of raspberry poptarts. The sun wasn’t actually that bright, but Josh left his broken sunglasses on and his hood up to protect the innocent children of his neighborhood. He looked like a major creep, as per usual. Josh assumed that somewhere at some random cousin’s wedding, Sam probably felt the uncontrollable urge to call Josh and point this out to him. A disturbance in the force, as it were.

His neighbor was out watering her expertly pruned, imported bushes and Josh tried to offer her a friendly smile. What resulted was what Josh liked to refer to as a ‘friendly grimace’. His neighbor returned the friendly grimace and Josh hurried away before she called the police. Somewhere, Sam’s I-Told-You-So senses were tingling. Josh knew this because his Sam’s-I-Told-You-So-Senses-Are-Tingling senses were also tingling.

Josh’s walk was otherwise uneventful. Nobody offered him heroin or tried to hit him in the face again, which was as good a day as any. Sure, he was basically in cardiac arrest by the time Ashley’s house came into view, but he had expected as much. He said a quick prayer for Ashley to be asleep or indisposed when he knocked on her door.

_Please, god, spare my heathen ass this awkward encounter._

Poetry.

Shifting uncomfortably between his feet, Josh let an audible whine escape his mouth. He really, really, really did not want to do this. Stupid Chris.

Josh pressed the doorbell before he could change his mind. Shortly thereafter, a tired looking woman in a bathrobe opened the door. She jumped slightly when she saw Josh standing there. One day, Josh figured people might stop acting like they’d seen a fucking grim reaper when he attempted to interact with them. And that was the kind of hopeful thinking his therapist would be proud of.

“Uh, hi,” Josh managed, offering his friendly grimace. “I’m Ashley’s uh…”

Well, Ashley’s something. They were friends but then he had punched her in the face and she stabbed him and a bunch of other shit happened. It was complicated.

“Anyways,” he said instead. “Just here to drop off some homework for her.”  Ashley’s homework was still hanging by his side, before he remembered it and offered it up.

The woman made no effort to take the homework from him, but rather took a step back from him and looked nervously behind her. “I think you have the wrong house,” she said, half shutting the door.

Josh’s friendly grimace fell from his face and okay maybe he lost his temper a little bit. “Alright, listen, I know you all think I’m gonna snap and like, throw my still-beating heart at your precious daughter, but I’m _fine_. I’m all good. Just a normal dude on some wicked meds. I ain’t here to freak your daughter out, I’m just dropping off homework. It’s a favor.” He shook the homework insistently at the woman, who looked quite terrified. “Now take the damn homework.”

The woman shook her head more insistently, closing the door even further. Josh had just about had it with people treating him like a psycho, though, so he stuck his foot in the door to keep her from slamming it on his face. “Would you just take Ashley her fucking homework!” He seethed, trying to stuff it in the crack of the door.

“There isn’t even an Ashley living here!” She wailed, trying desperately to crush Josh’s foot with her door. “Please leave!”

Josh froze. Wait, shit, whose house was this? Come to think of it, Josh had only seen Ashley’s mom maybe once and this woman didn’t really look familiar. Oh, fuck. This was not Ashley’s house. “Er, sorry, uh, ma’am. I…really thought this was Ashley’s house.” He stuck his friendly grimace back on his face. “Really sorry about that. My bad. I’ll just, uh, let you get back to it then, shall I?”

The poor woman looked like she was going to burst into tears. Josh pulled Ashley’s slightly-crumpled homework back and retracted his foot from the door. She gave him a scandalized look. “You need help,” she accused quietly, before slamming the door in his face.

“I _am_ getting help!” Josh shouted at the closed door. “Thanks for the concern, though!” He stood glaring at the closed door, before stomping his foot and letting out a frustrated groan. Slouching away from the house, Josh stood back and surveyed the street he was on. It was definitely the right street. But now that he thought about it, he wasn’t confident that this had been the house he and Chris stalked almost daily. Damnit.

Ashley's Homework: 2

Josh: 0

Josh pulled out his phone.

 

> **_Josh_ ** _: bro hit me up with that address. almost got the cops called on me at the house i thought it was._

 

Pacing the street, Josh waited for Chris to text back.

 

> **_Unknown5_ ** _: shit i forgot ash moved since you were there last_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _are u serious_
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _aw man my bad dude. sincerely my bad. head up two blocks north, take a right on Jefferson, and follow it down like five or six blocks. her house number is 2303._
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _dude wtf_
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _i said it was my bad_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _drivin me to an early grave bro_
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _u got this!!!_

 

Josh no longer felt like he ‘got this’. And now he had to walk even further to drop off the damn homework. The practice audition for dropping off the homework had gone worse than awful. He scrubbed irritably at his scalp before whipping his hood back up and departing for Ash’s House 2.0. On his way there, Josh attempted to smooth out the wrinkles in the workbook he had caused by trying to force it on some poor stranger. Chris had totally entrusted this task to the person best suited for the job.

Josh sighed. Baby steps.

Several hundred baby steps later and Josh had finally reached Ash’s real house. He mentally rehearsed not losing his shit and terrorizing the homeowners like the last woman he had tried giving Ash’s homework to. Practice makes perfect. Just be normal for once in your life. Josh pushed his hood back and rang the doorbell.

At least he kind of recognized the woman who answered this door. “Oh, uh, Josh, right?” She said, her smile kinder than Josh would have expected. Obviously Ashley hadn’t told her parents much of anything about The Incident ©. Or at least not the parts about him.

“That’s me.” He felt suddenly self-conscious standing there with his hideously bruised face and broken sunglasses. “Uh, I just wanted to drop off some homework for her. From Chris,” he clarified. Not that anyone would believe he was a functioning adult attending college classes on par with Ash and Chris. “No need to get her, I’ll just go.” He held out the homework, but Ashley’s mom hesitated to take it.

“Well, actually Ashley isn’t even here.”

Josh shrugged. “No problem, just tell her Chris dropped her homework off when she gets back. I’ve got some uh, important stuff to go do anyways.” No he didn’t. Josh never had anything important to do. This was the most important thing he had been tasked with doing in months.

Ashley’s mother still didn’t take the homework. “She’s actually staying overnight at the hospital,” she said. Josh frowned at her and she smiled apologetically. “Nothing serious,” she amended. “Ashley has pneumonia and it got bad enough that they wanted to keep her overnight. She’s okay, though.”

Josh heaved a slow, heavy sigh and let the homework in his hands drop to his side limply. He didn’t get paid enough for this. “I’ll go take it to her there,” he mumbled, stuffing the papers back under his arm. Clearly, Chris was unaware of this development.

Ashley’s mother smiled. “Oh, that’s very sweet of you dear. You didn’t walk here, did you?”

“No, I drove,” Josh lied. “Don’t worry about it. Where’s she at, the Clinic?” He asked, trying not to sound as tired as he felt.

“Yes, the one off of Hart Road, dear.”

Josh turned and gave her a farewell wave over his shoulder before tugging his hood back up over his head and departing. The clinic was at least 5 Google-estimated miles and about 100 Josh-estimated miles from where he was. He had to get going if he wanted to be home before it got dark.

Ashley's Homework: 3

Josh: 0

Around Google-mile 3 and Josh-Mile 67, Josh had become slightly delirious from lack of food. The poptarts hadn't really done it for him. His brilliant solution was to buy four cups of $.25 lemonade from a couple of kids at a shitty lemonade stand. They looked like they were going to piss themselves during the whole transaction, particularly when the youngest kid had asked Josh if he was the boogey man. Josh had responded in the affirmative before departing with his four paper cups of watery lemonade. They did nothing whatsoever to staunch his hunger. When you only have $1 to your name, though, sometimes you just have to suck it up.

98 Josh-miles later and the clinic had finally risen up on the horizon. Josh had never seen anything so beautiful. He had no idea how he was supposed to get home and it had started raining slightly, but goddamnit he had made it. The pilgrimage was over. The sacred homework was minutes from delivery. Hallelujah.

Ashley’s homework was zipped up securely under his sweater, but Josh worried that the rain dampening his clothes would get to the homework before Ashley did. Against every fiber of his being, Josh jogged the last stretch to prevent that from happening. In the entrance to the clinic, he shook off the loose raindrops like a dog, before slipping the relatively undamaged homework from his sweater. It was _slightly_ wrinkled and _slightly_ damp, but Josh thought he had performed admirably.

Josh was so tired that even his nerves were damp and muted. A little lost, he finally managed to wander over to the receptionist and dropped the damp homework unceremoniously on the counter. “I’m looking for Ashley. She’s staying overnight for pneumonia.”

The receptionist gave him a queer look, pretty much like everyone else did. “Do you have a last name for Ashley?” She asked delicately, pushing the damp homework away from her sign-in log with the tip of her pen.

Actually, come to think of it he didn’t have a last name for Ashley. He didn’t have a last name for most of his friends. Had anyone ever noticed that only him and Mike had last names? What the fuck? That couldn’t be right. Clearly, Josh had just forgotten it.

“Er, just Ashley. I forgot her last name, I think. Because I’m…uh, stupid,” he concluded. “Or she doesn’t have one.” The receptionist’s hand wandered dangerously close to the panic button and Josh slammed his hands down on the counter, suddenly panicking himself. “Can you please just try to find her? I’ve had a _really_ long day.”

She jumped a little and pulled her hand back slightly from the panic button. “I can try, I guess,” she said slowly, directing her attention back to the computer monitor. Josh’s hands were pressed so hard to the counter that his knuckles were white. This was not going the way he had envisioned, like most things in his life.

After a few minutes of tense tapping and squinting, the receptionist shook her head. “No Ashleys were admitted here for pneumonia.”

Pressing the heals of his palms into his forehead, Josh let out a low growl. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” she returned irritably. “Although, it looks like there’s an Ashley at our other location off of Hart Road. You must have mixed up clinics. The other one’s only about 5 miles from here”

Josh ground his teeth so hard he was sure the receptionist could hear it. “This _is_ the clinic off of Hart Road,” he hissed.

“Actually this is the clinic off of North Hart Road. We call this one the clinic off of Wilson Street to avoid confusion,” she drawled, already back to examining her nails.

Meds didn’t feel adequate in this situation to stop Josh from losing it. He held his hands up for the receptionist to see and made strangling motions in the air. “How _exactly_ was confusion _avoided_ here?!”

She pursed her lips and looked back up at Josh. “Sir, there are other people waiting to be helped, so I’m going to have to ask you to step aside. I’m sorry you mixed up clinics, but you won’t find your friend here.”

Josh whipped around to find approximately no one waiting to be helped. Slowly, he turned his head back to the receptionist and pointed a crazed finger at her. “Fine. You win this round. But just know…” he paused and gestured violently with his finger, “that I’m like, super upset. And…yeah. _Super_ upset.”

Raising an eyebrow, the receptionist nodded slowly. “Right. Super upset. Got it.”

Josh snatched Ashley’s homework from the counter and stomped back towards the exit. “Super upset!” He roared back over his shoulder. Several people scrambled to clear a path for him while he stormed back out into the rain.

“Fuck!” He yelled at nobody in particular.

Seething, he paced around the parking lot for a few minutes. “Fucking Fuck!”

An old man made eye contact with Josh and changed directions to the side entrance of the clinic. Good choice, old dude.

Ashley's Homework: 4

Josh: 0

Exhausting his supply of verbal fucks, Josh let his anger out in a single, deep breath. “Fine,” he said quietly. With renewed resolve, he shoved Ashley’s homework back under his jacket and set out for the other clinic. Ashley was going to get her damn homework if it killed him.

 

* * *

 

 

Josh thought he had been dramatic in thinking that getting Ashley her homework might cost him his life. However, as the rain picked up and the low grumbling of a lazy storm grew around him, he became a little nervous about that promise. This walk felt something like 500-Josh miles with his hair plastered to his head under his sopping wet hood and the little ponds in his shoes. Upon arriving, he figured he might be in a state where he was best off just checking himself in and bunking with Ashley in the pneumonia ward. About halfway to the other clinic, Josh had started walking on the side of the road in the hope that a car would squash him flat.

No dice.

When he finally staggered up to the sliding doors of the clinic, Josh didn’t even feel human anymore. The only thing he could acutely feel was the jagged pink scar leftover from Ashley’s scissor attack. It ached and ached and ached.

Josh sloshed up to the reception desk, dripping buckets on their shiny white floor. “Hi,” he said pleasantly.

This time, a big man with tiny reading glasses smiled up at him from his computer. “Uh, hi. Can I help you?” He asked, smile faltering when he caught sight of Josh’s bruised face and generally miserably appearance.

“I’m looking for an Ashley without a last name who was admitted for pneumonia recently,” Josh said evenly, pulling Ashley’s homework from under his waterlogged sweater. The homework was absolutely ruined and scattered water all over the counter when Josh dropped it on the counter. “Please.”

Nodding slowly, the man returned to his computer. “Right. Um, let me check.”

Josh’s pockets were also filled with water, but he stuffed his hands into them anyways while he waited. “Thanks.”

This receptionist was way slower at typing and Josh began tapping his shoes absently on the tiles while he waited. Finally, the man cleared his throat. “Ah! Here we are. Your friend is on the third floor, room 3010.” He paused and gave Josh a sympathetic look. “And while I would advise you that visiting hours are officially over, I don’t imagine that would dissuade you much.”

Triumphantly, Josh swept the soggy homework from the counter. “Smart man,” Josh said. “You imagine correctly.”

The halls were relatively quiet at that hour (whatever hour it was, Josh wasn’t sure), so the only sound that accompanied him to Ashley’s room was the wet slap and squelching of his shoes on the floor. As someone who had spent the previous month locked in a hospital, Josh wasn’t a huge fan, but some trials just leave you in a state of beyond caring. He wandered around, a bit lost, but eventually came to the right room. Peering into the little rectangular window, Josh spotted Ashley sitting up in bed reading a rather large book. Bingo, gotcha. Josh couldn’t recall ever being so glad to see her. Forgetting just how creepy he looked, he knocked loudly on the window.

Ashley started and met his gaze. Her mouth fell open in silent horror and Josh’s heart sank right down into his soggy shoes. She looked terrified. For lack of anything better to do, Josh gave her a friendly wave. It probably looked like satan welcoming her to hell.

 _“It’s me, Josh_ ,” he mouthed through the door. _“Can I come in?”_

Brow furrowed, Ashley seemed to consider this request. To help his case, Josh held up the mass of wet papers that had at one point been her homework. He pointed at the homework and then at Ashley. After a few moments of gesturing, Ashley slid from the bed and padded softly over to the door. Josh held his breath while she opened it. It was a start.

“Josh,” she said simply, blinking at him.

Josh nodded and dropped his arms back at his sides. “Ashley.”

“Uh, Josh.”

Yes, they had established that.

“That’s me,” he said quietly.

“Oh my god, what happened to your…uh, everything?” Her eyes scanned his bruised face and wandered over his dripping clothes.

Josh shrugged. “Chris punched me in the face for you. And then I walked here to bring you your homework. That pretty much catches you up on my everything.” Josh suddenly remembered the homework hanging at his side. “Oh, I brought your homework. I went to your old house, but you don’t live there anymore and then I went to your new house but your mom said you had pneumonia and then I walked to the wrong clinic because there’s actually two of these same clinics and they’re both off of Hart Road, but one of them is off of North Hart Road, but they just say it’s off of Wilson Road, and I couldn’t remember your last name and then I thought maybe you don’t even have one but I-“

“Josh!” Ashley cut him off and Josh snapped his mouth shut so quickly his teeth made an audible snap.

Mouth still clamped, Josh held the ruined homework out in front of him. She looked down at it for a few moments before a smile began creeping into her expression. Suddenly, Josh felt way less triumphant about the whole homework thing. Oh god, he had ruined it. Chris had asked him to do just one thing and he had ruined everything. “Aw man, I’m sorry Ash. It’s…it’s ruined,” he sighed.

Gingerly, Ashley took the dripping mess from Josh. After a few tense moments, she began laughing quietly and Josh felt just a little less cold. “Well, it’s the thought that counts, I guess,” she said. “Do you want to come in?”

Josh hadn’t really planned on it, but what the hell. “Um, sure, I guess.”

There was some home renovation show buzzing quietly on the television and Josh pretended to be interested in it while Ashley settled back in bed. “Got kind of worried when your mom said you were in the hospital,” Josh admitted, sitting delicately in one of the plastic chairs next to her bed. “I honestly thought I really might have scared the stuffing out of you…back then. I thought maybe I wasn’t the only one locked up for loose screws.”

“No, I’m…I’m actually pretty okay,” Ashley returned. “You really scared me, though, Josh,” she added, a little quieter.

Well, this was awkward. The silence stretched on and Josh felt himself about to say something stupid, so he just blurted out, “I’m really sorry, Ash.”

Of course, to make things more awkward, Ashley had blurted out her own apology at the exact same time. She colored slightly and backtracked. “Uh, sorry, you go ahead.”

Josh shook his head violently. “Ladies first.”

Ashley looked down at her hands and plowed bravely on. “Well, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About…Hannah. And Beth. And the prank. And not knowing how to talk to you after it all. That was…one of the worst things I’ve ever done to someone else.” She looked so small, twisting the hospital sheet in her hands. “It was cruel. And I only saw that when I realized how cruel you had become too. We created that.” Shit, she was gonna cry. “I’m really sorry for making you cruel, Josh.”

To her credit, though, she didn’t cry.

“And I’m sorry for being cruel,” Josh finished quietly.

Ashley let out rattling breath that sounded like it had been stored since the night Hannah and Beth had disappeared. It ended in a wet cough. Right, pneumonia. Josh felt kind of bad for putting her on the spot like that. Her cough turned into a relieved laugh, though. “That was…really scary,” she breathed.

Josh laughed too. “I’m a pretty scary guy, Ash.”

Smoothing the sheet out over her legs, Ashley took another deep breath. “This whole thing has been pretty crazy, though, right? It’s not like in the movies at all, either. I think things like this don’t actually bring people together,” she mused. “Hardly anybody talks to each other anymore. I think we’re trying, but people don’t like who they become when they’re scared.”

Josh shrugged. “I think,” he pondered, “we do what we can. And that’s just going to have to be enough.” Ash smiled into her lap at that and Josh thought for the first time in a long while that maybe that was true. Maybe. He wasn’t completely sold, but selling someone else on it was a kindness in itself. “Did anyone else come to visit?” He asked, trying to change the subject. One could only handle so much emotional vulnerability in one day.

“No. Kinda makes me think that we’re all basically alone in this. At least, we’ve been acting like it the last two months,” she scoffed.

“Alone, eh?” Josh dropped his head wearily into his hand, elbow propped up on his knee. “That might be true.”

“Probably not, though,” Ashley countered, changing the channel to some soothing program about the coral reef. She looked almost peaceful. “It can’t be true.”

Josh snorted. “Why do you think that? No one came to visit you.”

“You did,” Ashley said simply.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Security had come by eventually and booted Josh from the hospital, much to Ashley’s amusement. He didn’t have the energy to fight it, though, and was back out in the pouring rain. For some reason he had felt compelled to lie to Ashley that he had driven there. And then he had lied to his parents when he called them about coming home late. It was already nearly midnight and he was some 13 Google-miles from home, which might as well have been a billion Josh-miles. With no money for a cab and no spine to call for a ride, Josh began the long journey home.

While Josh was certainly extremely cold, tired, and wet, he felt kind of okay. By Josh’s standards, that was basically Cloud 9. But not really. Because he was really fucking tired of walking.

Only thirty minutes into the journey, though, and a car’s horn blared loudly through Josh’s sleepy brain. He could practically hear the loose screws vibrating around in there. A car had pulled up next to him and he squinted through the darkness at the driver.

“I know you said you aren’t a vagrant,” Sam called from the driver’s seat, “but you’re not really selling me on it.”

There _was_ a God and her name was Sam.

Josh laughed incredulously and slapped his hands together in prayer. “I have literally never been so glad to see you,” he yelled over the rain, hurrying over to her car. Instead of getting in, he made his way over to her window and squatted down to rest his chin on her window sill. “What brings you to these fine parts?” He asked, unable to keep the stupid grin off his face. “Want to join me on my leisurely stroll?” For added effect, he held a hand out to catch the heavily falling rain. “Quite lovely out.”

Sam shook her head. “I’ll pass. Imagine my surprise, though, when I got a call from Ashley asking me to go hunting around town for you. She thought that maybe you had lied to her about having a ride back to your house from the clinic.” Josh was even glad to see Sam’s I-told-you-so look. “She’s an astute one, that Ashley.”

“It’s why we pay her the most,” Josh laughed. Even though he felt miserable, his mood had lightened considerably. “Don’t take it too hard, though, Sammy. You’re definitely a close second.” He blinked some of the rainwater from his eyes and noted for the first time that Sam was still dressed in wedding formal. “How was the wedding? I thought it was running late.”

She shrugged. “Well, it got boring. Josh-hunting sounded more fun, so I checked out early. Would you get in the car already?”

“Good luck drying your car out afterwards,” Josh said, making his way back to the passenger seat. Once inside, he grinned stupidly at her from under his hood which had stretched in its waterlogged state to hang flat over his eyes. “Thanks for the lift, Sammy. This is why I pay you the second-most.”

Sam reappeared in view when she lifted his dripping hood back. “Yeah, well, no good deed goes unpunished. My poor, poor car.” Josh waited for Sam to pull away from the curb, but she just sat there studying him. “What exactly did you say to Ashley that got her to call me and worry about you? No offense, but I didn’t think you had that in you.”

Josh shrugged. “I threatened to pay you more than her.”

“Have it your way, then,” she sighed. “Either way, I guess I’m proud of you for that. So congrats or whatever.”

“Yeah?” Josh snickered. “Where’s my congrats kiss, Sammy?”

Much to Josh’s alarm, Sam shrugged before grabbing his clammy face and pressing a kiss on his wet cheek. Uh oh.

She laughed at his expression. “There ya go, boss-man. Don’t ask for what you can’t handle.”

Josh really hated being beaten like that, but at the same time…well, he would allow it. Just this once. “Very sneaky, Sammy,” he grumbled, resting his head against the window. “Well played.”

He watched the sidewalk disappear as Sam pulled away from the curb. Sam’s driving was far less erratic than it had been when they were tailing Chris and he felt his eyelids begin to droop. Good thing they weren’t too far from his house. He must have slept, though, because suddenly they were back in his driveway and Sam was elbowing him in the ribs.

“Hey, wake up. I ain’t carrying you inside.”

Josh jerked awake and shifted uncomfortably in his wet clothes. “Huh? Oh, right. Consider it a missed opportunity, then Sammy,” he yawned. “Anyways. Thanks for picking me up. Seriously. You’re the best Sammy a guy could ask for,” he said, pushing the door open and climbing stiffly out.

She shrugged, yawning herself. “Yeah, yeah yeah. Just don’t go falling in love with me now, alright?”

Josh snorted and slammed the door shut before shuffling up his driveway.

“’Bout three years too late for that,” Josh mumbled, letting himself inside the blackness of his home. Jokes on her.

While he wanted nothing more than to just strip and fall into bed, Josh took an extra moment to update his journal.

 

>   * _Ashley learned that there is always someone who cares, especially when you think there isn’t and it cost her one homework assignment plus an overnight hospital bill._
> 


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand now i won't update probably until wednesday night.
> 
> it's not like my entire degree rides on this thesis defense...or whatever.
> 
> anyways, i'm always open to suggestions, stuff u want to see, or stuff u don't want to see. hit me up in the comments or on tumblr.
> 
> next chapter: jess is still tired (and so am i)


	6. as close to poetry as we're gonna get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a wall full of the most terrifying things imaginable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back in black and still drinking for some reason (don't point out that its a tuesday i fucking know). tonight's chapter brought to you by this weird-ass pear beer.
> 
> spoiling u all with long chapters.

 

Now, Josh hadn’t set an alarm in quite some time on account of nobody expecting anything whatsoever from him, but he knew for a fact that getting woken up by an alarm was miles preferable to being woken up by a phone call. An alarm is annoying, but easy to deal with. Snooze. Go away. Try again later. End of discussion.

People? Well, people need reasons and effort and _talking_. Josh barely had anything important to say when he was fully conscious, but answering a phone call first thing upon regaining consciousness made him sound like he was gargling marbles while tripping on enough acid to fuel Jimmy Hendrix for the next three centuries. Josh was not graceful or articulate at the best of times and he was nearly unintelligible in the mornings. None of this even took into account that Josh had been webcam kidnapped by Chris for six hours the previous night, held against his will on conference call while Chris proceeded to deconstruct and philosophically criticize the entirety of Kill Bill to Josh’s protesting ears. This gesture might have seemed supportive and friendly to anyone else considering Josh was basically a shut-in who also enjoyed movies, but Josh suspected it was more that there were some things even Ashley wouldn’t put up with for Chris. Ashley was also a sappy nerd, but she would never out-nerd Chris. Ashley got the tolerable parts of Chris and Josh got the rest. The Kill Bill stuff. All six hours of it.

But Josh’s phone didn’t seem to give a flying fuck that he had endured six hours of pretentious film deconstruction the night before _or_ that it was only nine in the morning. That may have been a normal time for functional people, but Josh thought that if he was going to enjoy anything about being a non-functional adult, it might as well be the part where he could sleep until dinner time if he wanted.

Josh grabbed a pillow from the side of his bed and flung it blindly at the table beside his bed. He heard the unmistakable sound of his lamp toppling, complete with shattered light bulb. It was honestly super satisfying. Josh cackled into his pillow. “Get fucked,” he mumbled, tucking his arm back under his body. His phone had gone to voicemail and that was what mattered.

Approximately four seconds later, his phone started going off again.

Fuck.

Josh retrieved his last extra pillow from the side of his bed and flung it in the same general direction. This time he heard his cup full of pens eat shit somewhere off his desk. Josh groaned and pulled his only remaining pillow over his head until the ringing stopped. Not today, Satan.

The gears in Josh’s brain began slowly turning, creaking towards a semi-functional state and rattling his loose screws. It could just as easily have been his parents calling, but they never called during work hours. He wasn’t missing any therapy appointments either, so it was either a junk call or Chris suddenly remembering he had forgotten to tell Josh that the camera angle in scene 43 as seen through panoramic camera #6 was representative of the futility of religious pursuit. None of these scenarios tempted Josh to answer.

His phone began ringing again.

Josh tore the pillow from over his head and whipped it angrily at his nightstand, successfully launching his alarm clock across the room. “Christ,” he groaned, pillow-less and thwarted while his phone continued singing insolently at him. Propping himself up on his elbows, Josh glared at his phone, ringing almost gleefully for the fourth time. “ _Unknown6”_ was dancing across his phone screen and Josh considered turning his phone off. Maybe it was important, though? But since when did that matter to Josh? Ugh.

Falling back onto his pillow-less bed, Josh answered against his better judgment. “Hullo.” He pulled the blankets up over his head hoping maybe it would smother him before he had to experience whatever the hell he was about to experience.

“Oh, hi, Josh. You sure take a long time to answer your phone. What time is it?”

Female voice. Vaguely familiar.

Josh frowned. “You called me. What do you mean what time is it?” He grumbled, forgetting any semblance of manners, as per usual.

“You should answer your phone more quickly. What if this had been important?”

Josh paused and ran a hand slowly down his face. “You sayin’ this isn’t important?”

The girl paused. “Well…not, like, critically.”

Josh hung up and rolled over onto his stomach.

This time, Unknown6 waited a whole two minutes before calling again. Unknown6 was busy learning patience while Josh was busy unlearning what little he had. That took him approximately three seconds.

“What?” He snapped, jamming the receive button.

“Have you been on Facebook recently?”

Josh hung up again. There was no way this phone call was going to be worth it. It didn’t matter, though, because he was already awake and everything was terrible. He sat up and glared at the happy, shining sun outside his window. “This is all your fault,” he hissed. The sun just smiled back. Fucker.

When Josh’s phone rang again, he was ready for it.

“Who even is this?” He spat.

“Damn and they think _I’ve_ lost it.”

Josh hummed aggressively and considered hanging up again.

“It’s Jess, dummy.”

Oh, right. Jess sounded a little less high-pitched in person, but he probably should have guessed who it was. “Can we not do this at the crack of Satan’s asshole?” Josh muttered, wrapping his blanket around his head like little red riding psycho.

Jess snorted. “It’s light out. What’s the big deal?”

“This means nothing to me.”

“Normal people are functional by daytime hours, Josh.”

“This means less than nothing to me.”

Josh heard the sound of rustling papers and a few scattered pencils on the other end of the line. He looked nervously over to his own desk where everything on top of it was scattered and broken. Oops.

“Why did you delete your Facebook?” Jess asked almost sadly.

Sighing, Josh climbed out of bed, blanket hood still in place. He made his way over to the catastrophe on his desk and plopped down in the chair. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is less than critically important about Facebook that can’t wait until a less awful hour?”

Jess hummed, seemingly distracted. “Huh. We haven’t actually talked since that night have we? I thought maybe we had, but I just remembered that you were like…flippin your lid or something. Sorry about that.”

“Jess, _focus_.”

She laughed and it was kind of nice to hear. Jess was okay. Even if she did call him at an incredibly rude hour. “Right, sorry. I saw that the sun was out and I thought it was okay to call you.” She paused and muffled the receiver while her tinny yawn rattled in Josh’s ear. “You haven’t heard from Mike lately have you?”

No, fuck that guy.

“Sorry, Jess, can’t say I have. I think he kind of fucking hates me or whatever.”

“You think? Huh, hadn’t really thought of that.” She genuinely sounded like she hadn’t. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I don’t. Hate you that is.”

“Uh, thanks Jess. The feeling’s mutual.” And he meant it for his part.

“It’s just…well, you always used to make fun of Mike for his dumb Facebook posts. And I was wondering if you’d noticed how different they are lately. There’s just something…off about them.” She paused. “Not to bring up a sore subject. I know you two don’t really get along since you, uh, kind of terrorized him.”

Thanks, Jess. Jess was nothing if not keeping it real. It was honestly kind of refreshing.

“It’s cool. But I, uh, kind of know what you mean about Mike. I’m no expert, but I think he might be a zombie now. I think I’ve at least seen enough zombie movies to hazard a wild guess.”

“Yeah, he’s been weird lately. He calls all the time, but doesn’t come over much. Matt said he’s falling behind in their classes too. I was kind of worried that…” Jess faded out into silence and Josh sat there waiting for the rest of it. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Probably because I’m so approachable and kind-hearted.”

She laughed again and Josh decided that he would listen to her Mike troubles because Jess was truly okay. “Actually, I think it’s because I figured there was no one better suited to tell me if I’m imagining things than you. I imagine all sorts of things nowadays. This wouldn’t be too far of a reach.”

Josh gathered a few of his scattered pens and dumped them back in the cup he had retrieved from the floor. “Maybe we’re both imagining things. You should’ve called Chris. He has no imagination whatsoever. No vision. So sad.”

“You should come over,” Jess said abruptly. “Bring me something to eat too.”

Josh knocked the cup of pencils back over. “Uh, wh-why?” He stuttered.

“Why not? I want to show you something. And Ashley said you’re less crazy now.”

High praise from Ashley. As okay as Jess was, Josh mourned the opportunity to sit on the couch all day regretting everything he’d ever done. He could always reschedule to tomorrow and every single day thereafter, though. Hmmm. “Fine.”

“Alright, hurry up.”

Jess hung up on him and Josh decided that he did not like being on the receiving end of such rudeness. He could dish it, but he couldn’t take it. What else was new.

Josh scrolled through his recent messages and tapped out a quick text.

 

> **_Josh:_ ** _sammy where the hell does jess live_

 

Josh figured between Sam, Jess, and himself they might be able to form a fully functioning brain and get him there in one piece. Maybe. He would have to mention this moment of shining optimism to Dr. Van Halen the next time they met.

 

> **_Unknown4_ ** _: should i be concerned_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _i would say no but i know that won’t stop you_
> 
> **_Unknown4:_ ** _675 indian trail, like right across from your favorite walgreens._
> 
> **_Unknown4:_ ** _i would say be careful but i know that won’t stop you_
> 
> **_Josh_ ** _: glad we’re on the same page_
> 
> **_Unknown4:_ ** _tell jess hello from me. and be nice._
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _roger dodger_

 

He really needed to get better walking shoes. No sense in hurting his feet if the universe was going to be hell bent on making him exercise anyways. For God's sake he had just gotten over his homework errand from last week. Sam said it was the “rain” that had made him sick, but Josh was pretty damn sure it had been the exercise. Sam was great, but completely delusional when it came to physical activity. She encouraged it. Ludicrous.

Two dozen Vitamin C supplements later, though, and he had bounced back relatively quickly. Sam had given them to him, though, so it was probably just pure steroids in a cleverly disguised package. Fuckin health nuts. If his junk fell off he knew exactly who to blame. Then Sam would have to live with the embarrassment of being the object of The Dickless Wonder’s affections. Take that, exercise.

Fortunately, Josh’s junk was doing okay and the exercise was only a distant, traumatic memory.

His twelve black eyes were looking less grim when he finally made it to the bathroom. Only like, four of them remained and he looked more sickly than pummeled to a pulp. It was progress.

Despite his stomach’s protests, Josh skipped whatever meager meal he could have scraped up from his family’s pantry. He didn’t eat much in general nowadays. It wasn’t that he had no appetite. Quite the opposite, actually. In fact, he was never _not_ hungry. But eating didn’t help, so what was the point? His parents thought he was being ridiculous, but he liked to think of it as being economical.

Stumbling out into the sunlight, Josh stuck his brand new, non-crooked sunglasses on his face, courtesy of Chris. Chris couldn’t even kick someone’s ass without feeling bad and replacing their damaged valuables. At least he looked slightly less unapproachable that way. In fact, some of the neighborhood kids had invented a rather charming game in his honor. The fucking gremlins must have had some sort of neighborhood network because suddenly he was the key player in “Boogeyman”. Whenever they saw him, someone would scream “Boogeyman” and every other kid in the vicinity had to run and hide until he passed. This might have been truly alarming to him if they didn’t squeal with laughter every time a new round started. It was honestly truly fucking annoying. An image of a grey-haired, wrinkled version of himself waving a cane and threatening to call the cops if they didn’t get off his goddamn lawn sprung unbidden into his mind each time. This only made him grumpier. He was already the neighborhood whacko by age 20.

Completely not helping his case, Josh had taken in the last week to hiding behind trees and mailboxes and hedges whenever he saw children. In his mind, he was avoiding confrontation. The miniature fans of boogeyman, however, took this as his voluntary participation and wholehearted approval of his role. Fuck.

So, Josh was the boogeyman. You can’t win them all.

Josh would not, under any circumstances, mention this development to Chris or Sam. As a bona fide asshole, he knew just how much material that was for his asshole friends to roast him with.

About halfway to Walgreens, Josh spotted a gang of about seven kids up ahead on the sidewalk. They were distracted by something, but he recognized them vaguely as avid boogeyman participants. He was so not in the mood. Although, there was something to be said about a reputation that quite literally cleared the room. Good riddance.

“Boogeyman!” A little kid cried, pointing gleefully at Josh’s frowning face.

“Boo,” Josh muttered halfheartedly.

Cue screaming and running.

Rinse and repeat.

Some three involuntary boogeyman games later and Josh had finally reached the sanctuary of Walgreens. He mused dryly that he had a more intimate relationship with Walgreens than anyone else in his life as he perused the frozen food section. At least Walgreens didn’t think poorly of him. And to make things even better, frozen pizzas were half off. Walgreens was the only one who cared.

Jess had said bring food. She hadn’t specified good food. She was damn well gonna eat whatever he brought.

Ben the Cashier was working again, but looked even more strung out than he had the last time Josh had seen him. He made no indication that he remembered Josh or that he even knew what year it was. Either way, Ben expressed his approval at Josh’s “righteous” purchase. Josh decided that Walgreens was a better place for having hired Ben the Cashier. Good old Ben.

Jess’s house was indeed quite close to Walgreens. Josh couldn’t recall ever having been at her house. However, he had definitely met Ashley’s mother before and somehow still managed to mistake some random woman for her. So what did he know, really?

Josh suddenly became painfully aware of how little he had hung out with or even spoke with Jess alone in all the time of their acquaintance. They had never been close. Beth had thought she was fun. Hannah hadn’t really. But Jess’s taste in guys was seriously questionable.

“You gonna stand there checking out my doorbell all day or are you gonna bring me some of that food?”

Josh glanced up to find Jess observing him from an open upstairs window. He shrugged and shifted the plastic bag to his other hand. “I was just considering going home and eating it by myself instead. More for me.”

Jess huffed out a single laugh. “You can let yourself in. No one else is home.”

Josh wondered briefly if boogeymen were allowed to enter dwellings without an invitation. No wait, that was vampires. He pushed the door open and toed his shoes off before walking through the entryway. After a few minutes of awkward shuffling, Jess appeared at the top of the stairs still in her pajamas.

Josh scoffed. “Oh, so I’m weird for not being awake by nine in the morning, but you’re allowed to look like you just rolled out of bed?” He set the bag down on her kitchen table. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have put on pants for you.”

Jess met him at the bottom of the stairs and went straight for the bag on the counter, inspecting its contents. “Nobody asked you to put on pants,” she said distractedly, sorting through his purchases. She seemed distraught by what she found. “But…we have to _cook_ these.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” he muttered. Josh couldn’t help but notice the scarring. He had been given a brief summary of what happened to whom, but it was different seeing it. Jess’s scars were pink and healing, but still there, streaking across her chest, arms and face like little friendly reminders that she had almost fucking died. She looked tired too. Josh would recognize an insomniac just about anywhere.

Jess sighed and held the bag out for Josh to take. “Well, my oven’s over there.”

“But I’m the guest!”

“And I really don’t care. Oven’s that way, _guest_.”

Rolling his eyes, Josh took the offered bag and headed over to preheat the oven. Jess followed close behind and took a seat at the nearby table. He could feel her eyes on his back. “You look as bad as I do,” she finally said, more casual than Josh was strictly comfortable with.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Josh returned. “At least you’re pretty.”

“True, but I think it takes a troubled soul to recognize one.” Behind him, Josh could hear her tapping her nails in a little pattern on the table. “I think I just wanted to see how you had turned out. Mike said you were a loony, but you seem semi-functional. Kind of gives me hope.”

Semi-functional?

Aw.

That was the nicest thing he’d heard in months.

“Glad I could help,” Josh chuckled. He decided he was going to like Jess despite their differences.

“What do they have you on?”

Josh tossed the pizza in the partially heated oven and wiped his hands off on his pants. “Uh, Olanzapine I think. Last time I checked anyways. Some other stuff too, maybe. I try not to think about it too much.” He set the timer for 20 minutes. “Let the doctors do the doctoring and the psychos do their psycho-ing, eh?”

Jess smiled down at the table and continued her rhythmic tapping. “Sounds about right. At least _you’re_ not in my nightmares,” she said kindly. “Sam’s maybe. Ashley’s maybe. Not mine, though.”

Sam’s?

Damnit. Of course he was. He rubbed at the spot where he hoped his heart still was and tried not to grimace too noticeably. “Perks of being terrorized early I guess. Your monsters were real, though.”

“So were theirs. And so were yours, I imagine,” she said casually. Josh stopped rubbing his chest and stared at Jess. She paid him no mind, but he gave the side of her head an almost kind smile anyways. “How long until the pizza is ready? I’m dying.”

Josh turned back towards the timer. “I think we’ve killed a whopping 45 seconds so far.”

Standing up, Jess motioned for him to follow. “C’mon. I want to show you something.”

He trudged up the stairs behind her unsure of what was about to happen.

How bad could it be?

Josh liked to think back on that sentiment when he later recalled walking into Jess’s room for the first time. How bad, indeed. It was something like the stuff of his nightmares. But much more eloquent. Much more articulated. Much more terrifying.

He froze in the doorway and let his eyes scan the hundreds upon hundreds of drawings and scribbles and inked nightmares tacked all over her walls. There were small Wendigo shadows scribbled on scraps of paper, medium-sized Wendigos crawling and creeping across her walls, and huge, sweeping portraits with terrifying accuracy ready to tear open the paper and lunge for his throat. He took deep breaths and let the cold sink into his blood. Once acclimated, he knew he could handle it.

“That’s…different,” he managed, finally stepping fully into her room.

Jess laughed and it felt like a weird echo in the nightmare chamber her room had become. “More like completely bat-shit.” She walked over to a small desk in the corner and began sweeping pens and pencils back into drawers and baskets. “Clearly I don’t sleep in here.”

“Honestly? It kind of looks like you don’t sleep at all.” Josh forced himself closer to one of the larger wendigo drawings and studied it with a mixture of horror and fascination. The drawings were actually quite good.

Jess yawned as if affirming his suspicions. “Yeah, you aren’t entirely wrong about that.” She dropped into her desk chair and surveyed Josh as he waited for his blood to chill completely. “I know it looks crazy, but it helps. The more I draw, the less mysterious they are. The less twisted, you know? Keeps me grounded I think. My parents aren’t so keen on it, though.”

Josh hummed. “Can’t imagine why.”

He secretly agreed with Jess’s parents. These drawings belonged in like, punishment books for naughty children to read before bed so they fucking piss themselves. Josh kind of wanted to piss himself. That would have been decidedly uncool, though, so he clenched his bladder and put on a brave face. “Boy am I glad I was out of my fucking mind when this all happened. Maybe I got off easy,” he tried joking. It didn’t feel like a joke on his tongue, though. It felt cheap. It felt true.

“Maybe.” Jess was watching him carefully, gauging his reaction. He wondered how many people had seen this room. “But we killed _my_ monsters. Can you say the same about yours?”

No.

Unequivocally no.

“I think the Olanzapine is working on it.” He tore his eyes away from the wendigo’s blank ones and glanced back at Jess. She was no longer watching him, but rooting around in a large stack of papers. Making his way over to her, he tried not to feel like the hundreds of milky eyes decorating her room weren’t watching him.

“Aha!” Jess exclaimed, emerging from her pile of papers with a large portrait-sized document. Without further explanation, Jess held it out to Josh. “Made that one last night,” she said proudly. “It’s what made me think of you.”

Josh hesitated. What exactly was she offering him? The newest and most improved wendigo design? Was this one _particularly_ atrocious? Jess was still beaming at him, though, so he took it. It felt exactly like when the Washingtons had owned a cat and it would bring back horribly mangled woodland creatures and want praise for leaving them in Josh’s shoes. He told Jess exactly what he had told Boots the cat. “Er, thanks, I guess.”

Turning it over, though, was one hundred times worse than the scariest wendigo imaginable. He took one look at it and flipped it back over, swallowing the sudden ache in his throat. Panicking, his eyes shot back up to Jess. She had her legs pulled up on the chair, her chin resting on her knees. With a small smile, she gestured for Josh to look at it again. “Oh, c’mon,” she said quietly. “That one took me forever.”

Hands shaking, Josh flipped it back over and stared down at Beth and Hannah’s smiling faces. They looked…alive. And it made Josh feel less so. He didn’t have to hope his heart was still in his chest anymore, because fuck if it wasn’t hurting like a son of a bitch right now. It was horrible. It was beautiful.

Josh’s voice sounded miles away in his own ear when he choked out a funny-sounding, “I didn’t know you could draw people too.” The joke was lame and fell flat on the ground immediately upon leaving his mouth.

Jess didn’t seem to mind. “What do you mean?” She yawned again eyelids drooping lower. “There’s people all _over_ the walls.” Her eyes drooped shut and her words became slow. “Didn’t you pay attention at all?”

Josh tore his eyes away from his sisters’ smiling faces and turned back towards Jess’s crowded walls. Sure enough, there they were.

People.

Everywhere.

Those were his friends. The ones who hated him.

While the wendigo portraits were certainly the most provocative and eye-catching, they were held together by a patchwork quilt of people he knew and people he didn’t. There was Matt, cooking at Jess’s stove. There was Emily working on homework. There was Chris, fixing Ashley’s T.V. There was Sam and Hannah on a walk somewhere beautiful. There was Mike, asleep on a couch.

And there was Josh, a long-extinct goofy grin on his face while he planted his failed vegetable garden from three years ago. Back when he had bet Sam $100 that he could grow her a complete salad by the end of the summer (he hadn’t).

They were everywhere, mixed in with other people Josh didn’t even know. How had he missed that? The wendigos were provocative, sure, but not nearly as captivating as Jess’s life sewn together in insignificant moments across her walls. God, no wonder she was tired.

“Shit,” Josh finished eloquently. Really did the whole thing justice.

“ _Shit_ ,” he said again. “Motherfucker.”

That meant beautiful, for the record.

Suddenly the whining pitch of the timer sounded from downstairs and Jess’s eyes flew open. She looked around wildly for a moment, apparently unaware of having drifted. “See?” She said, finally settling back down. “People everywhere.”

“No kidding,” Josh breathed, unable to tear his eyes from the collage.

He heard Jess get up behind him but made no effort to move until he felt her tug slightly on his sleeve. “C’mon, let’s go eat. I’m starving.” When he looked down at her, she was holding out the drawing of Hannah and Beth. “You can have it, you know. It’s for you.”

Josh considered the drawing. “Well,” he said slowly. “Maybe you should keep it and hang it up with everyone else.” Jess raised an eyebrow at him. “Let’s be honest. Hannah and Beth would die twice of boredom if they had to spend eternity in my room.” He gave her an imperfect smile, but he meant that one so it was as close to perfect as it had ever been.

Jess rolled her eyes, but smiled back at him. “Oh, whatever. Suit yourself.”

He usually did.

The pizza was only slightly burned when they got back to it, but that didn’t seem to dissuade Jess all that much. She cut the pizza ungracefully in half and slid an entire half of it onto her own plate, leaving Josh to fend for himself. He respected her for it.

After a few moments of silent eating, Jess put down her ridiculous pizza slice and pointed at Josh. “You know, you’re definitely not as loony as Mike made you sound. He made you sound completely…well, broken,” she shrugged.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Josh leaned back in his chair and stared out onto her back porch. A squirrel outside gave him a haughty look and darted out of view. “I feel pretty broken,” he admitted.

Jess scoffed into her pizza. “Me too. But you know what I’ve learned?”

Josh’s diary flashed in his mind’s eye and he set his own pizza half down, leaning forward to catch her words. “What’s that?”

Jess held a single finger up into the air. “Ain’t nothin’ so broken it can’t be fixed.”

Josh nodded. “Ain’t nothin’ so broken it can’t be fixed,” he echoed, savoring the words in his mouth.

It was the closest thing he’d ever heard to perfect poetry.

“Yup,” Jess said cheerfully. “How do you feel Josh?”

Josh shrugged. “I feel fine, I guess.”

“No you don’t. But we will someday.”

 

* * *

 

 

> **_Josh:_ ** _you know what, i like jess_
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _im sure mike would give you his blessings??_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _mike would cave my fucking head in_
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _ye ur right. do not pursue._
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _can it dude, i just meant she’s alright in my book._
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _aaaaaawwwwww josh is making friends_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _bout to drop one too_
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _anyways, i was thinking we could skype about Donnie Darko tonight??_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _bye._

* * *

 

 

Josh was woken from his afternoon nap by a soft knocking on his bedroom door. This was only slightly preferable to alarm clocks but significantly preferable to phone calls.

“Huh?” He called from under his blankets.

No answer.

“Whudyawant?” Josh called again, pulling the blankets from his head.

After another beat, Mr. Washington let himself quietly into his room. “Uh, one of your friends dropped something off for you while you were asleep,” he said sheepishly. “I forget her name. Tired looking girl. Anyways, I’m sorry, I…I, uh, kind of looked at it.”

Josh squinted through the darkness and could have sworn his dad’s eyes were watering in the hazy evening sun filtering through his blinds. Before he could confirm this, his dad set a large piece of paper on his desk and excused himself from the room. Rolling out of bed, Josh made his way over to his desk and turned over Hannah and Beth’s smiling faces. It was less terrifying the third time around.

He even managed to smile back. “Well, guess you’re stuck with me now,” he murmured, tucking it safely into a side drawer of his own desk. One day he figured he could bring himself to hang it up. Jess seemed to think so, anyways. Before heading down to dinner, Josh wrote neatly under Jess’s page in his journal.

 

>   * _Jess learned ain’t nothin’ so broken it can’t be fixed and it cost her two months of sleep and a couple of monsters._
> 


 

It wasn’t quite poetry when _he_ said it, but it was still kind of nice.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've sent me an anon message on tumblr, i got it and thank u much. requests received. i also read and thoroughly enjoy all of your comments. they feed my cold, cold soul.
> 
> idk if u guys want a happy ending or a less than happy ending. i could go either way on this one. your call. (not that we're even remotely close to an end, but i was just curious).
> 
> (next chapter: whats up with mike)


	7. pour one out for the ones who can't stop pouring one out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's not easy being hot shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones....not really that funny. sorry.
> 
> today's chapter sponsored by: sobriety! it's cheap, healthy, and recommended.
> 
> wait, check this shit out some really cool people drew me shit:
> 
> [look at this](http://mothi.tumblr.com/post/131628872288/ive-been-reading-this-fanfiction-by) 
> 
>  
> 
> [and this](http://zach-stone.tumblr.com/post/131592540022/coldmackerel-hey-pal-so-uh-your-fic-is-probably)
> 
>  
> 
> NICE

 

It wasn’t that Josh didn’t enjoy movies, because he absolutely did. In fact, he had always felt that if his life had been more like a movie then maybe everything wouldn’t be so goddamn open-ended. Nothing ever got resolved. It dragged on and on and on, long past the point of interest for everyone involved. It was kind of like a sitcom where the actors get rich and tired of cracking jokes, so they just half-heartedly take jabs at each other with a forced studio audience laugh track choking the life out of all four hundred extra seasons. Sitcoms either died heroes, or lived long enough to see themselves become the villains. Tired, unfunny villains. His life resembled that way more than a movie minus the paycheck. If his life had been a movie, at the very least, it would be over in two hours whether he liked it or not.

Point being, movies were great. There had been a point in time when Josh thought maybe he would like to help produce them someday. But at the moment Chris was on Josh’s couch, talking through the entire film and Josh hadn’t napped that day so he could feel his brain turn to mush with every trivial production fact Chris launched through his eardrums. What the hell were they even watching? What time was it? Could he reasonably pass off being awake while checking the fuck out? Probably not, he’d been accused of snoring on multiple occasions.

At least he wouldn’t be the only one jumping ship on Chris’s one-man deconstruction party. Chris was wide-awake and blabbering on Josh’s right, but Sam was out cold on Josh’s left. Josh himself was slouched down so far on his couch that the vertebrae in his neck were being uncomfortably folded into the back corner of the cushions, feet flat on the floor. Josh’s back was practically level on the seat of his family’s expensive couch, head barely propped up to watch the main character of whatever the hell they were watching shoot some guy like a million times in the face. Gross, but kickass. Sam was using Josh’s stomach as a pillow and she huffed irritably in her sleep when Josh let out a single grunt of satisfaction, jostling her head. He was kind of pissed that she got to sleep while he had to be a good friend and not kill Chris.

Chris laughed at something he had just said. Josh made no effort. “I mean, all I’m saying is that a movie that grosses $45 million at the box office shouldn’t-“

“Dude, I’m dying, what time is it?” Josh interrupted.

Chris seemed lost without the end of his last sentence. He blinked a few times, glancing around him as if he had forgotten where he was. “Oh, uh…it’s not that late I don’t think.” Chris checked his stupid watch, which Josh thought looked like something Steve Jobs would’ve simultaneously criticized for it’s complicated interface and whacked off to when he was alone. But that was neither here nor there, and Josh was suddenly super uncomfortable that he had just had a coherent thought in which Steve Jobs was whacking off. What the fuck. Anyways.

“Late enough,” Josh said, shaking his head to dispel all memories of Steve Jobs. “Look, you killed Sam,” he added, gesturing at his stomach. “You were so boring you literally killed her.”

Chris crossed his arms. “You love movies!” He accused. Josh had the decency to feel a little bad. But decency wouldn’t save him from how tired he was. “Do you have any idea how long I spent…” Chris made a weird face before turning abruptly back to the movie where another guy was getting pumped full of lead.

Holy shit.

“Dude were you _researching_ this movie?” Chris continued looking stubbornly at the television, so Josh knew he had hit the nail on the head. “Oh my god. You don’t even like movies that much,” he laughed.

“Yeah, but _you_ do,” Chris grumbled, crossing his arms even tighter across his chest. “Or at least you used to. Whatever.”

Josh’s grin creeped up towards his ears. Chris was the sappiest soul this side of everything. “Aaaaaaw,” he drawled, jabbing a finger into Chris’s side.

Chris swatted Josh’s finger away. “Dude, if you don’t like geeking out over movies anymore, why didn’t you just say so?” Releasing his chest from his own vice-like grip, Chris threw his arms up in dismay. “I spent so long trying to find a movie that was both pretentious enough to geek over _and_ violent enough to not die of boredom. Fuckin waste if you ask me.”

Okay, Josh felt a little bad. “Aw, dude, I’m just tired.” Sam shifted slightly and grabbed a handful of his sweatshirt. “My meds shoot my attention span in the face. Er, um, what movie are we watching again?”

Chris lowered his head and glared at Josh over his glasses like a librarian who had caught him doodling in a priceless collectors edition of Go Fuck Yourself. “We’re like, 20 minutes into this stupid movie already.”

Josh pulled a strand of hair from in front of Sam’s face and tucked it behind her ear. “Well then you’d better hurry up and tell me what the hell it is.”

Angrily, Chris waved a beat-up rental DVD case in front of Josh’s face for him to read. “Léon: The Professional,” Josh read slowly. “Huh. Pretentious _and_ violent, just what the therapist ordered.”

Chris gestured helplessly. “I don’t know dude, you used to dig this kind of stuff. This is the last time I try being nice.”

Josh sincerely hoped that wasn’t true. Chris was hilarious when he tried being nice. “Say it ain’t so, bro.” He laughed when Chris chucked the DVD case back down beside the couch. “Poor Sammy,” Josh mused. “So young and already murdered at the hands of your pre-researched pretention. You’re a monster, Chris.”

Chris was way too easy. He crossed his arms again. “Watch the fucking movie.”

Josh ignored him. “I’m no expert, but we should probably draw a mustache on Sammy’s face. Isn’t that what girls do at sleepovers?”

“Yeah if you want to die,” Chris said, finally relenting from his pout with a small smile. “Sam’s stone cold dude. She’ll fuck you up.”

“Oh, I dunno. She’s kind of cute when she’s not trying to get us to lead healthier, more fulfilling lives,” Josh snickered.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Which is basically never. So that can’t be it. You just _always_ think she’s cute, dude. You’re a fucking goner.”

On the television the man Josh assumed was Léon was sitting alone at his table drinking milk. That was more Josh’s pace. When Josh was Léon’s age, he would be an awkward shut-in, alone in a dingy apartment trying not to die of boredom. Or maybe he’d just let it happen. “Oh, yeah,” Josh muttered. “At our wedding they can play footage of me running around in a clown mask, scaring the living shit out of her and drugging her. It’s gonna be _really_ special,” he deflected. “Good thing I recorded it.”

The movie played on but Josh knew neither of them was paying attention at that point. Chris was giving him the side-eye of the century and Josh was staring stubbornly at a framed picture of his parents above the television. All Josh could do was wait for whatever stupid question Chris was about to ask him. It was Josh’s fault for bringing it up anyways.

“Dude, seriously, I know I said we’re even. And I meant it. I still do.” Each word felt specially selected with care to offend Josh the least. Josh willed Chris to hurry it up. Just rip it off fast like a band-aid. “Just…well, I gotta know dude. The prank. Why Sam? Hell, why me?” Josh breathed forcefully through his nose. He didn’t’ have an answer. He’d spent so much time waiting for one of them to ask him that question and _still_ hadn’t come up with a good answer. “Do…do you hate us?” Chris added, eyes glued pointedly back on the television.

Josh’s head whipped around and he glared at Chris. “Of course I don’t hate you,” he said, a little harsher than he had strictly intended. “I don’t. It’s just. Every time I try to-well, it’s like…sometimes I think that-” Josh groaned. “Why _exactly_ does this have to be so difficult.”

Chris waited patiently, the remote crushed in his nervous grip.

“Honestly, dude?” Josh pulled a hand heavily down his face like he might be able to wipe it off and start over.

A gunshot rang out again on the television and Josh wished he had been on the receiving end.

“Honestly, dude, I have no fucking idea,” he concluded lamely, wilting under the stress of his admittance. “No. Fucking. Clue.”

And the award for most unsatisfying answer goes to…

Sagging back into the couch, Chris shrugged. “Eh, well, shit happens right? Maybe it would be easier if you just hated us,” he admitted. It sounded less like a joke than he had probably intended.

“Ditto.” Josh heaved a mighty sigh and practically whispered, “it was just supposed to be a prank, you know? Just a prank.”

Chris turned back towards the television. “Oh.”

Actually now they were tied for the most unsatisfying answer award.

“Sorry.”

Chris reached an arm over and patted Josh on the chest without taking his eyes from the movie. “It’s okay, bro.”

“No it isn’t.”

“I’m wicked smart and you’re wicked clever. We’ll figure it out.”

Josh hoped some of his apology had managed to soak into Sam’s sleeping brain because there was no way in hell he would be able to say it to her face without chickening out. Do apologies count when people can’t hear them? Probably not.

Hopefully Chris was right. But that was so optimistic that Dr. Van Halen had probably just sat bolt upright in bed in a cold sweat.

Sam patted his stomach reassuringly in her sleep and he felt marginally better.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

> **_Unknown6:_ ** _45 W Bartlett, apartment 39_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _????_
> 
> **_Unknown6:_ ** _go check on mike_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _?????????????_
> 
> **_Unknown6:_ ** _please_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _?????????????????????_
> 
> **_Unknown6:_ ** _im gonna kick ur ass josh_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _why am i suddenly mike’s keeper_
> 
> **_Unknown6:_ ** _payment for my artistic creations. im out of town anyways._
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _cant it wait until u get back_
> 
> **_Unknown6:_ ** _check his twitter_

That was all well and good, but fuck Mike. Sure, Josh knew it was kind of childish to blame Mike more than anyone else for what happened last year, but seriously fuck Mike. The last thing he wanted to do was go hold his hand through a nightmare. He was a big boy. He could hold his own damn hand. Also, he was super popular or whatever, so Josh was sure there was a long line of people who would be eager to hold his hand. Hannah had at one point been one of those people and look where it had gotten her.

Blergh. Bad train of thought.

Josh was not going to go hold Mike’s hand.

Purely for his own satisfaction and definitely not because Mike was remotely on Josh’s affection radar, Josh made his way to Mr. Washington’s home office to borrow his laptop. Who knew, maybe Mike was live-tweeting descending slowly into madness and streaking nude through the morning primetime news? Josh was more than up for a mood-booster especially at Mike’s expense. This was worth getting up for _even_ if he had sat through that whole damn movie last night. Admittedly, it was a pretty good movie when he had actually started paying attention. Those moments were intermittent at best, though, because Chris couldn’t shut up and Sam had the nerve to exist that close to him.

The office was open and Josh caught himself sneaking inside. Sneaking was completely unnecessary. He was allowed to use computers, right? Josh was pretty sure he invented half of the things he thought he wasn’t allowed to use or enjoy. He made a conscious effort to look less guilty as he plopped down into his dad’s expensive swivel chair. It made him feel big and important, which was actually really weird and uncomfortable like most things he was unaccustomed to.

Mike’s twitter was easy to pull up probably because he was too dumb to figure out and to popular to want privacy settings. Josh started at the most recent tweets and scrolled down.

 

 **mike** @munroe4prez

ddddddddffdddssd

 **mike** @munroe4prez

irts notet

 **mike** @munroe4prez

jstu thirrnk ing but it

 **mike** @munroe4prez

Another day

 

Maybe Mike _was_ locked in the trunk of a car somewhere. His kidnappers were having some keyboard problems, though. At the very least, Jess’s concerns were valid. Josh was curious, but not particularly motivated to action. He couldn’t understand why this had to be his problem. If Jess wanted payment for the drawing, Josh would have been happy to let her rip out his molars one by one without anesthetic. That seemed like the more attractive option.

Alas, Jess didn’t want his molars. Cruel, cruel world.

Josh drummed his fingers on the desk, contemplating Mike’s bizarre twitter feed. All he really had to do was drop by, see Mike’s stupid face for a minute to make sure he wasn’t being worn by an alien or something, and then he could blow out of there. Five minutes of discomfort at best. He could smile and tell Mike they were fine and Mike could pretend like Josh didn’t make his skin crawl and they could go on hating each other in polite peace immediately afterwards. Mike might’ve been dumb, but he knew the social dance. It was why he was so popular. If there was one thing Josh could count on Mike for, it was faking it in earnest.

Josh slapped his hand on the desk, mind made up, and shut his dad’s laptop. He could do this. Then he could go back to being happily bitter. A healthy resolution.

Grabbing his jacket, Josh shuffled down the stairs. He rattled his daily sanity around in his hand, pills clicking together quietly, before tossing them back. Sam hated when he did that. Something about pills burning a hole in your throat over time if you don’t take them with water. Maybe Josh could’ve used a throat hole. Maybe all the words he needed to say but never said would just come tumbling out of there instead, unbidden but welcome nonetheless. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Léon: The Professional was still sitting on Josh’s couch and Josh wondered how many days of late fees Chris was going to accrue before he came back for it. Not that it mattered. Chris was probably rolling in well-deserved nerd money from his side-job fixing computers. Josh had like $4 to his name.

Delaying the inevitable, Josh wandered around the kitchen waiting to be inspired to eat something and his eyes caught on a box of Vitamin C powder. Gifts from Sam were always thoughtfully passive-aggressive. ‘Don’t get sick again dumbass’ this one seemed to say. She always cared in the most abrasive way possible. More steroids.

Despite his trepidations, Josh poured a glass of water and stirred in a few spoonfuls of whatever the hell was in Sam’s gift. Steroids, Vitamin C, whatever. Didn’t really matter in the end. It tasted like that time Mike had bet him $30 he couldn’t chug ten redbulls and Josh had projectile vomited after number eight. Assuming he had gathered the vomit and re-ingested it, that was exactly what the mystery supplement tasted like. Vile, in a word.

Josh dumped the rest of the redbull puke down the sink and grabbed some poptarts instead. He was single-handedly keeping the poptarts name brand in business. If he weren’t so bruised and crazy he would have made a great poster boy.

Looks like he was walking again. Josh pulled up his last conversation on his phone.

 

> **_Josh:_ ** _alright im going_
> 
> **_Jess:_ ** _tell him i love him!_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _that is absolutely not happening_
> 
> **_Jess:_ ** _ <3_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _no_
> 
> **_Jess:_ ** _ </3_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mike lived closer to Josh than he was comfortable with. Childish, but justified.

The only upside to this development was that Josh didn’t have to walk too far to find him. Apparently Mike had moved out of his parents’ house (which was a much farther, more satisfying distance from Josh) and was living close to the campus he and Matt attended. It was a quaint little community college for quaint people, quaint dreams, and quaint budgets. Josh might have gone there himself if his life had gone as planned. But things rarely did.

Josh trudged up the stairs of Mike’s apartment building to the third floor, feet getting heavier with every step. While it was true that he wasn’t in the best shape of his life, it felt more like something heavy and annoying and emotionally-driven was dragging at his ankles, pleading him to turn back. ‘ _Mike’s a dick’_ the invisible ankle weights whined. What else was new.

Apartment 39 was tucked away in the back corner of the hallway, which felt wrong to Josh. Mike belonged at the center of attention at all times. That was just who he was as a person. Maybe this was good for him, though. Some people just needed to be tucked into corners for a little while. Josh himself had probably spent a little too long tucked into a corner. But what’s a guy to do.

When Josh reached out to knock on the door, he imagined what would happen if he just straight up socked Mike in the face when he opened the door. Mike could kick his ass there and back again any given day, but what if Josh got the drop on him? Endless possibilities. Jess probably wouldn’t be too happy about that, though, and he kind of owed her one. So he just knocked a few times and waited with hands in his pockets.

No answer.

Josh knocked again. There was no way he was going to come back later. This was a one time offer.

Still no answer.

Pounding a little harder, Josh willed Mike to appear at his door. He couldn’t stand around waiting for him all day. He had a whole lot of nothing planned.

Strike fucking three.

“Gah!” Josh scrubbed at the back of his head angrily. Fucking Mike couldn’t even be bothered to be home. For some reason Josh decided to try the handle. And for some reason it turned. And for some reason Josh pushed the door open. There were a lot of unanswered questions there.

Before anything else, Josh noted that the apartment absolutely _reeked_ of alcohol. Josh had been to some ragers in his time, but he felt like he was drowning in the bottom of a bottle of Jameson. It was more like swimming than breathing. Josh knew he shouldn’t be there, but his traitorous feet carried him further inside the little apartment. It was dark inside, with the only light to see by filtering in through drawn curtains. The source of the smell was immediately apparent, though. Dozens upon dozens of empty and half-full beer bottles and larger liquor bottles were scattered across every surface, sometimes haphazardly, sometimes expertly lined up like little soldiers.

Had Mike had a party there?

There was no evidence that such a thing had occurred. A little further into the kitchen, though, and Josh found the party. His favorite kind of party: a party of one. Mike was snoring loudly, face down on his little plastic dinner table. His left hand was covering his cellphone and his right was draped loosely over an overturned bottle of vodka. The only things he was wearing were boxers and an undershirt. Mike had either just had a really great day or a really terrible day. Maybe both.

Suddenly Josh became painfully aware that he was trespassing. Technically, though, Jess had given him permission to be there. Wasn’t that good enough? Josh crept a little closer to Mike to make sure he was still alive. People probably couldn’t snore that loudly after death, but better safe than sorry. With his face down on the table, though, it was kind of hard to confirm Mike’s survival. Josh stood there awkwardly, unable to shake his general irritation with passed-out Mike.

Mike’s kitchen was a mess. More booze lined his counters and stove and there were dishes piled sky-high in his sink. It had the aesthetic of a typical messy college freshman with the added element of falling off the fucking deep end.

“Ah, Mike,” Josh murmured, sifting through the empty bottles. Mike had shitty taste in booze. This was a serious intrusion. Mike would probably strangle him if he weren’t snoring into a puddle of his own drool. He picked up a bottle off the stove and turned it over, examining the label. Absolute shit.

Josh had a miniature heart attack when something nudged at his knee. He jumped and nearly bowled a strike with all the bottles on the stove. “Shit,” he hissed, whirling around.

Aw.

How could he stay mad at that face? Mike may be a douche, but he had a super cute dog. It had floppy ears and must’ve been young because his paws were too big for his gangly body. It was some kind of Australian Shepherd, Josh thought. He was no dog expert. Mike’s mystery dog was looking expectantly up at Josh, an empty bowl clamped firmly in his mouth and tail wagging a million miles an hour.

Josh looked around nervously. Was it weird to feed someone else’s dog after breaking into their apartment? He had kind of lost track of what was strictly allowable in conventional burglar terms. The dog was like _really_ cute, though.

Shit.

Josh glanced around, eyes sorting through the forest of booze until they finally snagged on a large paper bag of dog food. He barely had time to stop himself from internally cracking a joke about Mike’s diet finally reflecting himself as a person. It seemed a little rude to bash Mike when he had broken into his home and was about to illegally feed his dog or whatever.

“Alright, uh, whatever your name is.” He patted the dog on his head and grabbed the bowl. “I’m gonna call you…Little Mike.” Josh frowned. Wait, nope, that sounded like what Mike might call his dick before he measured it in the mirror each morning. _Nope._ “Er, nevermind. That’s terrible. We’ll work on something better.” The dog looked like it didn’t give two shits what Josh called him as long as a person was paying attention to it. Truly this was Mike’s son.

Josh filled the dog’s bowl with some weird-looking dog chow and put it down on the floor. Beyond that, he hadn’t really planned out what to do about the current situation. For the life of him, from then until the end of time, Josh would never know what possessed him to, but his next course of action was apparently washing Mike’s dishes. They were just sort of there. And in the Washington households, unattended dishes were a crime worse than inviting seven of your closest friends to a weekend getaway only to scare the ever-loving shit out of them. Okay, _almost_ worse than that. Pretty bad. Whatever the case, Josh had been conditioned too well. And Mike’s kitchen was pissing him off. Life was already so goddamn weird, what was another few feet down the rabbit hole.

Josh washed dishes in silence while Mike snored and Mike’s son ate from his bowl. Maybe Josh should’ve put a ring on it before getting this domestic. Mike was going to wake up to two of his greatest fears: a life with Josh in it, and dedicated commitment. Spite-marrying Mike felt like just the kind of self-destructive, dramatic thing Josh might attempt to get even. Just imagine how pissed Mike would be. Hilarious.

Twenty minutes and a mountain of dishes later, and Josh had run out of weird ways to occupy himself. This was stupid. Josh was done waiting. With little to no thought, Josh filled a clean glass with water, marched over to Mike’s stupid head, and dumped the cold water all over it. Mike had needed a cold shower for like 10 years. Better late than never.

Spluttering, Mike flailed his arms, throwing his cell phone across the kitchen and upsetting the contents of the vodka bottle. It was exactly as satisfying as Josh thought it would be. Beyond that, though, he had no plan. Things were about to get super weird. He was gonna make it weird.

Mike swung his head clumsily around, trying desperately to focus on something. He hugged the sloshing booze bottle to his chest, his index finger stroking it soothingly. Mike really knew how to treat the ladies. But he was having trouble locating Josh, so Josh plopped down in the other rickety plastic chair across from him and gave him a level look. “Your door was open.”

Josh had gotten some negative reactions to his general existence in his time, but this one was pretty fucking rude. Mike’s blurry gaze finally located Josh and he choked on his own spit before flying backwards off of his chair, toppling ungracefully to the ground. Super satisifying. Rude as hell. But satisfying.

Mike groaned, lying flat on his back and cradling his head. He seemed completely unaware that there was vodka pouring freely all over his stomach and chest. Josh got up from the table and crouched down next to Mike. “Jess wanted me to check on you. You were drunk tweeting.” Mike’s dog was watching them quietly from the corner of the kitchen, head resting on the floor. Apparently Mike drunkenly eating shit wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for him.

“Jess?” Mike propped himself up on his elbows, but was unable to keep his head from bobbing up and down, incapable of finding equilibrium. He was fucking plastered.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Josh said wryly. “In the flesh.” He shuffled back slightly to avoid the encroaching pool of vodka from soaking his shoes.

Mike rolled onto his side to better focus on Josh’s face. “Josh,” he finally managed.

Gold star.

Water dripped down Mike’s face onto his already soaked shirt. Josh watched the water’s path a few times from his hairline to his shirt, before righting the silently streaming vodka bottle. Most of it had been spilled already. Josh’s attention was drawn back when Mike let out a dull laugh. “Caught me at a bad time, man,” he slurred, not even sparing his soaking shirt a glance. “What d’ya need?”

Josh didn’t answer. Instead, he watched Mike attempt to get up and fail spectacularly. Josh looked up at the kitchen counter from his squatting position and stared into the dredges of a mostly finished tequila bottle. He glanced back and forth between a struggling Mike and the tequila bottle a few times before getting mad.

“Really Mike?”

Mike froze and stopped trying to get up. He at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“ _Really?”_

Mike shut his eyes tightly and wobbled his head a bit in denial. But Josh knew from experience that closing your eyes didn’t make the things you didn’t like disappear. If only it was that easy.

Josh shook the spilled vodka bottle in front of Mike’s face. “You’re going to choose _now_ to be broken?”

“Josh, please,” Mike pleaded quietly, eyes still squeezed shut. “Please don’t, man.”

Josh saw red. Everything was fucking red.

“Don’t _what_ , Mike? You’re upset _now_? Hot shot can break a girl’s heart and get her killed but can’t handle a couple of monsters?” Josh slammed the bottle on the floor and Mike startled so bad one of his elbows slipped out from under him. “This is _bullshit!_ ”

“Please don’t,” Mike said again. “C’mon Josh. Jus’ tryin to get some sleep was all.”

Josh threw his hands up. “Look around you, man! You’ve had enough booze pass through here in two months to burn down New York fucking City!” When Mike tried to get up again, Josh shoved him back down hard, grabbing him by the front of his soggy shirt and practically straddling him. He wanted to hit him. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to disappear.

“I’m tryin’, Josh,” Mike whimpered. “I’m tryin’ man.” He wrapped his hand around one of Josh’s wrists. “I’m so sorry. I’m tryin’. I’m tryin’. So, so sorry Josh. I’m tryin’.”

“Try _harder_ ,” Josh hissed. “You’re supposed to be the indestructible one. Where’d you go, Mike?” He pulled Mike up into a sitting position, but Mike kept a firm hold of Josh’s forearm. “You’re not _allowed_ to fall apart.”

Mike nodded more firmly, grip tightening on Josh’s arm. “Alright. Alright.”

Josh gave him a little shake. “If you want to fall apart, you’ve got to wait until I’m six feet under ground and in a million irreparable pieces. _Then_ you have my permission to fall apart.”

Mike let out a single ugly sob and leaned forward to rest his head on Josh’s shoulder. “What d’you want from me?” He hiccupped.

Josh’s throat ached so bad he was forced to allow a few angry tears to streak down his face just to relieve the tension. The red was fading fast and everything felt colorless. Everything ached. “I want my sisters back, Mike.”

It would have been more dramatic if his voice hadn’t cracked lamely at the end.

Mike squeezed Josh’s wrist even harder. “It was just a prank, man. Just s’pposed t’be a prank,” he whispered.

Just a prank. Just a prank. Just a prank.

Yeah.

The funny thing about anger is that you can’t always predict when it’s gonna grab you and shake your brains loose. But even more unpredictable is when it’s gonna set you down, dust you off, and walk off without any warning. It comes and goes as it pleases.

And so it went.

Josh let Mike rest his ugly, drunk face on his shoulder and cry gross Mike boogers into his sweatshirt in raw silence. Mike wouldn’t surrender Josh’s right wrist, but Josh wrapped his left arm around Mike’s back and held him there.

 Josh would be the first to admit that he was the heavy-weight champ of not letting things go. But you’ve got to start somewhere. So Josh sat in a puddle of vodka on Mike’s kitchen floor and learned how to let go.

It was just a prank.

They could’ve sat there for years for all Josh knew. Somewhere between four minutes and four hundred years later, Josh pulled Mike to his feet and helped him throw up into his empty sink. Good thing Josh had cleaned all those dishes. Small victories.

Mike seemed to be semi-functional after a few good heaves, so Josh made him take his shirt off and go to bed. And maybe he didn’t exactly have enough energy to hate Mike anymore, but he certainly wasn’t going to undress him. Mike was gonna have to figure that one out on his own.

Luckily, Mike managed these simple tasks and Josh floundered awkwardly in the doorway to his bedroom unsure of how to close that weird chapter in their quasi-friendship. “I think I’m gonna head out Mike.”

“I’m sorry, Josh,” Mike said, peeling one eyelid open. He seemed a little more lucid at least. “I’m sorry about your sisters. And I’m sorry about abandoning you in the mines. I was a dick, dude.”

Josh shrugged, too tired to engage. “Thanks, Mike. Shit happens, right?”

“Fuckin’ right it does.”

“Figure your shit out, Mike. Time to move on.”

Mike let out a lazy laugh. “Kinda hard when everyone thinks you’re hot shit but you feel like cold piss. Time to grow up I guess.”

“It’s over Mike. High school is over. Blackwood Mountain is over. Can’t go back.” Good advice, Josh should take it sometime. “I think I like you better as a douchebag than a sad fucker anyways.” Josh stared at his shoes, only able to occasionally look Mike in the eye as he sobered up.

Mike peeled his other eyelid back and nodded. “Get better, Josh,” he said seriously. “Don’t spend all your time putting out everyone else’s fires. We’ll get there on our own.”

Dust motes danced around Mike’s dark bedroom and Josh watched them stir up the rotting sadness of the place. It was good to kick up dust sometimes. “I’m working on it. If you all could stop catching fire, though, it would be _greatly_ appreciated.”

Mike smiled and it was possibly the least annoying smile he had ever offered Josh. “We’re working on it.”

“Take care, Mike.”

Before leaving, Josh took an extra ten minutes to sweep all of the empty, full, and partial bottles of booze into a couple of trash bags while Mike’s dog followed him around happily. He also wiped up the vodka puddle because what the hell, they were already so goddamn domestic. By the time Josh left, the booze was gone and the dishes were clean. Josh was probably the best girlfriend Mike had ever had. It would never work out, though, because Mike was still an ugly motherfucker. At least his dog was cute.

 

* * *

 

 

> **Josh:** mike’s gonna be fine
> 
> **Unknown6:** what was wrong with him?
> 
> **Josh:** high expectations i think. keep him out of the booze tho
> 
> **Unknown6:**   thanks josh
> 
> **Josh:** np

 

* * *

 

 

Josh went home and drank four glasses of Sam’s vitamin C steroid vomit. Or whatever it was supposed to be. All he knew was he must’ve been getting sick. The problem with giving a grudge a long-term place in yourself is that when you let it go, you feel kind of empty. What are you supposed to fill yourself back up with? Josh filled it with Vitamin C as a stop-gap solution and hoped he could put something else there in the morning. Something positive maybe.

The evening sun dwindled into a mellow purple reverie that warmed the kitchen while Josh stood there sipping steroids and being empty. He watched it flatten into the calm blue of an early night sky and drank another glass of vitamin C. A mourning dove chatted sadly with the crickets outside the window and Josh whistled a few sad tones back at them. Somewhere Mike was sleeping off a bad hangover. Sometime during the night, Mike would try to find some scotch, but would find nothing. He would have to think and feel and exist and forgive and forget. And Josh didn’t hate him. Things were fine that way. Emptiness can be fine too.

Josh ate dinner in his room that night and filled the emptiness with one of his dad’s scratchy piano vinyls and an old video from his sisters’ fourth grade play. He did it for himself. He did it for no reason at all. He just did it.

 

>   * _Josh learned to let go and it cost him his anger._
> 

> 
>  
> 
>   * _Mike learned to let go and it cost him two months of sobriety._
> 


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> confession: i cannot seem to decide if matt is still in high school or not in this fic. it is a mystery.
> 
> i decided to sleep on this chapter and decided 'fuck it' in the morning, like most things in my life. idk man.
> 
> votes are in for a happy ending. nobody said nothin 'bout how i'm supposed to get there tho so what you see is what you get.
> 
> cheers friends.


	8. not exactly the breakfast club, but good enough for government work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if josh is judd nelson, then molly ringwald is surely going to die alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started writing this last night and got so smashed i couldn't even produce words. tried again today. only slightly better.
> 
> you ever heard [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eetIgGXH6DA) song? makes me feel some kinda way.
> 
> now we proceed to the part where i stop this fic from getting too serious.

 

Josh had really just been planning on grabbing some food and going back to his goblin cave for the better part of the day, but while he had been lamenting the absence of poptarts in the Washington household, he had spotted that dumb DVD Chris left on his couch. He had picked it up, flipped it over and perused the back cover for a few minutes trying to remember anything about the plot of the film. Between dozing off, ignoring Chris, and failing to ignore Sam he could honestly say that the film was more or less a stranger to him. He remembered some people getting shot. He remembered Léon sitting at a table drinking milk at some point. Yeah, that was about it. And predictably, Chris had yet to pick the overdue movie back up. It must be nice being able to blow your nose into hundred dollar bills. Josh could ask his parents about that later, though.

Without thinking too hard, Josh tossed the movie back into his television and started it up. It wasn’t even noon yet and his goblin cave was calling to him, but what the hell. The poptarts were gone so his morning routine was already pretty much shot. It’s not like there was much point in living anymore without them so whatever. This was especially true now that Josh was stuck with his stupid punishment cereal again. Fucking shredded wheat goddamn.

The movie started up and Josh decided that there was no point in putting on pants or a shirt because his parents were probably coming home late. As a kindness to his neighbors, though, Josh pulled the curtains shut so they didn’t have to watch their half-naked goblin neighbor shuffle around his living room cursing quietly at a bowl of shredded wheat. He was just really thoughtful that way.

Sinking into the couch, Josh poked disinterestedly at his garbage cereal and watched Léon slit some poor mobster’s throat. He tried to remember any of the exhaustingly researched trivia Chris had tried providing him with a few nights ago but only really managed to remember contemplating dearly departed Steve Job’s masturbatory habits. And that was something best left in the past.

Eventually Josh pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over his head and shoulders. Turned out that clothes provide more than just modesty. Josh wished he had put some on to combat the cold, but his room was way too far away. Just impossible.

The movie turned out to be pretty damn good. He had become so absorbed in the film that he had accidentally let the last half of his cereal get too soggy to eat and had to abandon it. A real tragedy. Alright, Josh felt a little bad that he had let Chris run around trying to get him to have fun and had made no effort to actually enjoy himself. Chris was right. Josh did enjoy this sort of thing. He had forgotten that he was allowed to enjoy things.

Josh was on the edge of the couch by the end of the movie, blanket pulled taught over his head, completely absorbed in the numbing violence. Léon was in some serious shit when the Washington’s extremely pretentious doorbell gonged through the house and straight through Josh’s nerves. He jumped and swore quietly that he would devote all of his dastardly talents to disconnecting that goddamn doorbell. There was no reason a single-family home had to have a fucking intercom system. Every time someone rang it, it sounded like the Queen of England had descended to their doorstep on a surprise visit for tea. All that was missing was the automatically unfurling red carpet. Rich people, honestly.

Despite the potential for having to greet the Queen of England for tea, Josh decided that putting on clothes just wasn’t in the cards for him that day. His room was still far away and he still didn’t care. It was never going to happen. So he plodded over to the front door and pulled it open wearing nothing except his underpants and a blanket. On a positive note, it was not the Queen. On a negative note, it was two people who deserved better than a mostly naked Josh squinting into the morning sun, unable to produce any intelligible greeting. He just squinted and waited for them to state their business. The movie was paused, but he wanted to get back to it.

“Lookin’ good there, Josh.”

Josh nodded, still unable to fully focus on them. “Thanks.”

“You gonna invite us in?”

Josh shook his head. “Probably not.”

Sam gave him a look that let him know quite clearly that this was the wrong answer. Jess was covering her grin with one hand. Well, if he couldn’t make girls swoon without his clothes on at least he could make them laugh. You get what you get.

He frowned at them and pulled his blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. “I’m watching a movie,” he tried clarifying. “And it’s at a good part. But if you want to come hang out with me in my underpants and watch the end of a movie you have no context for, then by all means.”

Sam looked less than convinced, but Jess elbowed her good-naturedly and laughed. “It’s fine. Sam was just helping me drop this off,” she said, holding out a foil-wrapped plate for him.

“And this,” Sam added, holding up a large ceramic pot of something.

Josh’s first instinct was that it was something healthy and he recoiled. “What’s that?” He asked suspiciously.

Sam gave him a look, but Jess didn’t seem bothered. “Mike made you stew and corn muffins, but he’s too embarrassed to give them to you. He told me to tell you that I was the one who made them.” She turned slightly back towards the street where her car was parked. “He’s hiding in the car like a child.”

Josh switched his blanket grip to one hand and held his free hand up to block the sun from his eyes. He could just make out Mike in the backseat of the car staring at him. Mike probably didn’t know Josh could see him. Because they were both inclined to behave like children, Josh gave him a friendly little wave and Mike disappeared below the window after a lot of panicked scrambling.

“Is Mike any good at cooking?” Josh asked warily, still not reaching out to accept the gifts. “Be honest with me, Jess. Will I die?”

Jess was grinning back at the spot where Mike had disappeared from and turned back to give Josh a reassuring look. “Yeah, he’s actually a pretty good cook. Way better than me anyways. He’d never say it, but what he _wants_ to say is thanks. And sorry, probably. I got the abridged version of this past Tuesday.”

Josh stared down at his feet and prayed that Jess had received an _extremely_ abridged version. His attention was pulled back when Sam snorted impatiently.

“Are you gonna take these from us or not? This pot isn’t exactly light.”

Josh stared blankly at her, ever the gentleman.

“You’re gonna break Mike’s fragile heart if you don’t eat his stew, Josh,” she added, offering up the pot more aggressively. Jess nodded her agreement.

He was kind of forced to accept the pot as Sam practically bowled him over with it. Hastily, he tied the blanket around his neck before grabbing the pot. “Uh, alright. I guesss.” He held the pot lower so Jess could set the plate of muffins on top of it. “Um, tell Mike…well, whatever,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jess laughed. “I think the best thanks you could give him is pretending I didn’t rat him out. Just pretend this never happened.”

That made Josh want to stand outside Mike’s apartment window with a ten foot billboard proclaiming ‘THANKS FOR THE STEW’ while holding up a boombox playing a romantic 80s ballad. Maybe he’d even pump a victory fist like Judd Nelson while the credits rolled to a Simple Minds song. Don’t you forget about me, Mike.

 He didn’t necessarily hate Mike for the prank anymore, but there are some habits you just can’t shake. Passive aggression was almost an expression of endearment at that point in Josh’s life. Instead, Josh outwardly agreed. “Consider it done.” Inwardly, though, he was humming The Breakfast Club’s best hits.

“Thanks, Josh,” Jess said warmly, pressing her knuckles lightly to his shoulder before heading back towards the car. Mike could be seen conspicuously trying to appear inconspicuous in the backseat. Josh made a mental note to Sixteen Candles the shit out of him at a later date.

Sam was still staring at him and Josh got the weird feeling that she knew exactly what he was thinking and plotting. She usually did. “There is no way you’re going to let Mike live this down.”

The atrophied muscles in Josh’s arms ached and he shifted the heavy pot a little before shrugging innocently. “Me and Mike are tight, Sammy. I think I like him more than I like you now.” He gave her an apologetic smile.

She sighed and placed her hands delicately in the pockets of her sweatshirt. “Well, whatever. Do what you want, you usually do anyways.”

“Say the word and I _won’t_ reenact the end of Say Anything at his apartment tonight. Just say the word, Sammy.” The gross part was that he actually meant it. Sam could probably have told him to audition to be a burlesque dancer and he would have gone out and bought the feather boas that night.

Fortunately, she was unable to hide her amusement at that. “Any other day of the week and I would say go for it, but you’ve got plans tonight, Cusack. Mike will wait for you, though. And I’m sure you have Jess’s blessings.”

Josh felt his fingers slip slightly on the sides of the stew pot that had become slick with condensation. He juggled the armful nervously. “Uh, wh-what plans?” Smooth.

Devious smiles on Sam were always bad news. His stomach flopped over nervously. “You’re coming to Matt’s homecoming game tonight. We’re all going. Matt’s first string and none of us have been to one of his games yet.”

Josh spluttered indignantly. “But-but I’m _busy_ Sam!”

Sam ignored him. “It’s homecoming, so put on something nice. We’re taking him out to dinner afterwards.” She frowned at his current outfit, indicating that underpants and a blanket were not going to be sufficient.

Carefully, Josh set the pot on the welcome mat so that he didn’t drop it. “But…but _Emily_!” He protested.

“You’re in luck. She’s out of town on a debate conference. No way out,” she said triumphantly. “I’ll pick you up at five, so try to look less…well, less like that,” she concluded, gesturing at his entire self.

Josh tried to give her an offended look, but Sam was busy waving cheerfully at his shrub-trimming neighbor. The neighbor returned the wave, but balked when Josh glared at her. “I’m very _busy_ ,” he tried again.

“I can see that.”

Josh threw his hands up in the air. “Fine! Whatever. But did you ever consider that Matt doesn’t want me there?”

“Matt already invited you, dumbass. Maybe if you checked your phone on some sort of semi-regular basis you would know that.”

Josh’s nosy neighbor peeked up above her straight-edge bush at the racket of their argument, so Josh directed his glare back in the neighbor’s direction. It was way easier than trying to win an argument with Sam. Again, the neighbor scrambled to disappear from view. “Fine,” he grumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Five o’clock.”

Sam smiled, victorious, and turned neatly on her heal, leaving Josh standing there mostly naked and foiled again. It would be a lot easier being infatuated with someone who sucked at arguing. “Glad you see it my way,” Sam called over her shoulder, never too perfect to be petty.

Josh hefted the stew pot into his arms again, balancing the plate carefully on top and frowned at her back. “I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids.” Sam waved in reply, not even turning around. “And your dog too,” he muttered as Mike shuffled further into the back seat, unwilling to meet Josh’s gaze.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched his neighbor beat a hasty retreat into her four-car garage. Jess gave her horn two friendly taps as she departed and Josh shuffled back into the privacy of his home.

Before returning to the last bit of his movie, Josh dropped the pot on his stove and lit a burner. There was still the lingering suspicion of Mike being a god-awful cook, but Josh was too hungry to care all that much. It was either Mike Stew or soggy shredded wheat. A close, but clear choice.

The movie ended on a kind of tragic note and Josh felt a little betrayed. Léon deserved better. All in all, though, Josh had actually enjoyed it. He owed Chris an apology that he would never receive. Just add it to the list.

Mike’s food was surprisingly pretty good too. Begrudgingly, Josh enjoyed two helpings before shoving the entire pot back in the fridge. He hadn’t really eaten anything with meat in it since being dragged out of the mines, but he was able to keep the nausea down for the time being. And he certainly wasn’t any less hungry afterwards, but at least he hadn’t been poisoned.

After eating, Josh hit play on the movie and watched it all over again. He hadn’t realized how much he missed movies. This time he clicked through a few film analysis articles on his phone and read some reviews. Despite his previous trepidations, Josh decided that he still liked geeking out over movies. It felt a little like recovery.

Five o’clock was rapidly approaching and Josh was still in his underpants. Sam was going to be pissed when she got there. It was true that she had instructed him to ‘wear something nice’, but what exactly did that mean? Maybe he could get away with something clean. ‘Nice’ felt a whole lot like unrealistic expectations to him. Only a few minutes before five, Josh managed to put on an outfit that wasn’t necessarily ‘nice’ but more like ‘I’m sorry I tried my best’.

When he finally wandered downstairs, he was surprised to find Sam already sitting in his kitchen, scrolling through her phone. “No, please, by all means come right in,” he said, trying to sound more joking than grumpy. It didn’t work.

She turned around and frowned back at him. “I said to wear something nice.”

“I’m not a miracle worker, Sammy,” he lamented, helping himself to one of Mike’s corn muffins. “I’m wearing clothes, aren’t I? I grade myself on an improvement curve.”

Apparently Sam did not grade him on the same curve. “Josh it’s not that hard. I _know_ you have nice clothes, so just go put on a tie.” She also helped herself to a muffin.

“What do you want from me, Sam, I’m already dressed,” he said sourly.

“Go put on a tie.”

Josh made no further verbal protests, but threw his hands up and stomped back upstairs. He grabbed a tie from his closet and put it on over his t-shirt, admiring himself in the mirror. Sam was going to kick his ass.

When he got back downstairs, Sam was filling a glass of water in the sink. Josh marched up to her and stood directly behind her, waiting to get his ass kicked. She turned around and started a little at how close he was. Upon noticing his outfit, Sam narrowed her eyes dangerously. “You put on a tie,” she remarked smoothly.

“As per your request.”

“You’re making this at least a hundred times more difficult than it has to be,” she said sweetly. Still dangerous.

Josh gulped, but plowed bravely on. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I look dashing.”

“Hmm.” Sam was still smiling when she tossed the contents of her glass on Josh’s shirt. “Oops. Guess you have to find a new shirt.”

Okay, maybe in some form or another he had deserved that.

Josh looked sadly down at his ruined shirt. “I dress all nice for you and this is how you repay me?”

Finally, Sam’s dangerous smile relented and softened into one of amusement. She sighed and pulled a towel from the stove. Josh watched her closely while she patted uselessly at his shirt with it, absorbing maybe two percent of the water dripping into the hem of his pants. He felt his own face crack into a grin despite his intention to make her feel bad. Sam glanced upwards and snickered at his stupid expression, still dabbing uselessly at his shirt. “I think I’ve saved it,” she declared quietly. “I’ve saved your fancy shirt from ruin.”

“Thank god.”

Sam was still grinning up at him and Josh thought that he was completely blowing everything by not kissing her. He was used to blowing everything, though, so the feeling just kind of sat casually on his shoulder like an old friend, patting him reassuringly on his face like ‘you’ll get ‘em next time champ’. No, he probably wouldn’t, but the sentiment was nice. Josh watched passively while his opportunity danced mockingly passed him. Again.

“Let’s compromise,” Sam said, pulling him back to a disappointing reality. “No tie, but a nicer shirt. Deal?”

Josh mumbled his agreement and went back upstairs to fish a less wet and slightly nicer shirt from his closet. Apparently he was successful that time, because Sam didn’t douse him in water again when he returned. Either that or she just felt bad. He felt bad too, though, because Sam looked a hundred times nicer than he did. But a guy’s gotta stand by his principles. No tie.

“Well, that’ll do I guess. We’re gonna be late if we don’t get out of here.”

Josh unearthed his phone from its hiding place and they left in Sam’s car. Sam talked the whole way there about her trip to the Bermuda Triangle or something, while Josh was busy regretting everything. It made for a pretty short car ride.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The game was…fine.

Mike and Jess had yelled a lot. Ashley had asked a lot of questions and Chris had pretended to have answers until Mike made fun of him. Sam seemed happy. Josh himself hadn’t really known how to react to that many people in such a normal setting. He spent the whole time pointing at different football players and asking Sam: "Is that one Matt". They all looked the same with their helmets on and Josh had honestly not been able to tell. After awhile, though, he was doing it just to bug Sam. He would point at referees, cheerleaders, and concession workers. "Is that one Matt?" Only Mike and Ashley seemed to find this remotely funny. Well, Josh too.

At the end of the game, Matt was recognized on the field for some kind of sportsmanship award. Matt’s mustachioed coach was presenting the award in a booming voice.

Josh leaned over towards Sam. “Is that one Matt?”

“Yes, Josh, that one is actually Matt,” she sighed.

Humming thoughtfully, Josh considered Sam’s answer. “I didn’t think Matt had a mustache.”

Apparently Chris had heard them because he slapped the back of Josh’s head hard enough to deter him from asking again.

When the team had finally cleared off the field, they all got up to go meet Matt outside of the locker room. Josh hadn’t seen Matt since The Incident © though, so he volunteered to stay behind. He needed a few minutes to talk himself out of being awkward and saying something stupid anyways. Nobody questioned it thankfully, so Josh was left behind on the rapidly clearing bleachers. He pulled his phone out to look like less of a loser and scrolled absently through old texts. Surprisingly, he had a new text as well.

 

 

> **_Unknown:_ ** _Hey man I hope this is the right number. Hope you’re coming to my game tonight!_

 

The original Unknown.

 Josh had replied to that one weeks ago, though, hadn’t he? To his dismay, he scrolled up to find that his reply had failed to send. He had done the unthinkable: he had left Matt hanging. Twice.

“Josh!”

Josh jumped a little and glanced up to find a happy looking Matt smiling up at him from the lower level of bleachers. Shit. This was not part of the plan. None of the others were there to save him. In fact, pretty much everyone else had vacated the bleachers and it was just him and Matt.

“Sorry,” Josh blurted out.

Matt raised an amused eyebrow at him.

Josh scrambled to translate. “Er, sorry for not responding to your texts. My last one didn’t send.” The words came out too quickly, bumping into each other ungracefully. “And sorry for…well, everything else I guess.”

Matt just laughed. “Hey dude, we’re all busy people. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” He rested his helmet on his knee and wiped a hand across his brow. “Bygones be bygones, right?”

In the web of infinite possibilities for Matt’s reaction, this was probably the one that Josh _hadn’t_ played out in his head. He stared back at Matt, unable to come up with anything intelligent to say.

Matt seemed to notice this. “Eye for an eye, prank for a prank, Josh,” he said kindly. “You couldn’t have predicted the rest of it, you know?”

Clearly Matt had not fully grasped the lunacy of what happened two months ago. “I almost got you killed,” Josh returned.

“That’s a bit of a simplification.” Matt shrugged. “But, I’m still alive, right? We all are. Good enough for me, man.”

Matt was looking at him with dangerously high levels of earnestness and Josh had to look away. Perhaps Matt was a little _too_ simplistic when it came to these matters. He had never been particularly bright. While he was staring at his shoes, he heard Matt climb the stairs to his level and plop down on his left.

“You don’t believe me,” Matt pointed out, drumming his fingers on his helmet. It wasn’t a question.

Josh finally looked back at him and gave him a judgmental look. “It’s more that I’m wondering just how hard you got tackled out there.”

Grinning, Matt bumped his shoulder against Josh’s roughly and almost sent him flying. “Maybe you’re right. Can’t say I’m complaining, though. Feels good to let it go, dude.” His smile remained, but it turned less joking and more sympathetic. “And I’m sorry too. About your sisters.”

Josh couldn’t help but return the smile. Matt was simple. Matt was good. Matt deserved to be validated. “Thanks, Matt. Bygones be bygones, right?”

“You got it,” Matt laughed and bumped their shoulders again, this time a little more gently. He glanced around the empty bleachers and frowned slightly. “Where did everyone else go?”

“They went looking for you – thought you had gone back to the locker rooms with your team. I decided to wait here because I’m a chicken,” Josh added proudly.

A group of shirtless, heavily painted teenagers ran whooping across the field and they both watched them in friendly silence. Without looking away from the celebrating teens, Matt put a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “I’m glad they pulled you from the mines, dude.”

“Not as glad as I am,” Josh chuckled. But in all honesty, that might not have been true. That sentiment depended on the day for Josh, but Matt seemed fully in support of Josh’s survival. Good old Matt.

Josh felt a little better about being alive when Matt left him to find the others. And why not? Matt might have been a little simple, but he was right. They were all alive weren’t they? Maybe that was enough at the end of the day.

Josh must’ve looked a little better because Sam gave him a knowing smile when she found him. “Matt said he ran into you.”

“Yeah he full on tackled me. I ate shit, Sammy, I swear,” he joked, scooting over on the bleachers to give her more room.

Sam made no use of the extra room and sat right up next to Josh. “I would’ve paid to see that.” Josh did not doubt that. “Thanks for coming tonight,” she added begrudgingly. “I know you were _super_ busy or whatever.”

Josh turned his head and smiled at her. “Anything for you, Sammy. I cancelled on some _pretty_ important people, though, and that’s on you.” She just hummed and scooted a little closer, so Josh cast around for something else to say besides ‘I love you’. “Oh, did I mention that I finally figured out which one was Matt? I was right, he doesn’t have a mustache.”

Sam laughed at that and Josh swallowed so loudly he was sure she heard it. His mind was blank. He was gonna say something dumb.

“Want to see something funny?” Sam asked, saving Josh from himself.

“Funnier than me?”

Sam got up and tugged on Josh’s sleeve. “Hard to believe, I know.”

Josh followed her obediently down the steps and around the back of the bleachers. He was kind of skeptical that there could be anything funnier than himself back there, but Sam was still holding his sleeve and Josh’s brain was pretty much useless at that point. She eventually dropped his sleeve and began examining one of the support beams holding up the stands.

“Aha!” She declared, stepping back and pointing at the post. “Matt told me he had discovered this a month ago. I figured you’d appreciate it.”

Josh squinted through the darkness at the mass of scribbled graffiti and irreverent vandalism. Eventually his eyes fell upon something worthwhile.

 

_‘Mike Munroe sucks’_

 

Josh gasped dramatically. “Alright, that’s it. I’m calling the cops. Nobody fucks with Mike except me – take that as you will.” He made a show of trying to rub the message off of the metal. It didn’t budge.

“Sorry,” Sam laughed, nearly doubled over in amusement. “I thought you would enjoy that. I forgot about your 80’s movie romance.”

Josh whipped around and tried to give her a serious glare. “My love for Mike is not a _joke_ , Samantha. Our passive aggression will burn eternal,” he insisted, breaking into a grin somewhere near the end of his declaration.

Wiping a tear from her eye, Sam regained control of herself and rolled her eyes fondly. “Alright, do you want to call the cops or should I?”

“It’s too late. Mike’s heart is probably already shattered,” he lamented, leaning back against the post. “We’re _through_.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, Sam looking smug that Josh was happy and Josh looking happy that Sam was smug. It was mutually beneficial. The black of the night was thickening, though, and it was getting kind of hard to see well enough to stare at each other. Josh thought this was incredibly unfair because he wasn’t ready to stop staring. He probably never would be.

“You’re giving me a weird look,” Sam accused good-naturedly, stepping closer.

Josh shrugged and pushed off from the post, bumping the toe of his shoe against Sam’s. “I’m a pretty weird guy, Sammy.”

 This didn’t appear to be news to her. “That much at least is true.” She tapped her own shoe against his and he regretted stepping closer.

Instead of throwing up like he wanted to, Josh smiled down at her but was otherwise incapable of thinking of a single clever thing to say.

Shit.

Well, as it turned out he wasn’t going to have the chance to say anything anyways, because from far fucking left field suddenly she had grabbed his neck and kissed him square on the lips. Josh was of course enraged with himself because he had spent the better part of three years debating doing just that. But when his chicken ass got the tables turned on him all he could think about was the fact that he’d spent the last ten minutes promising his heart to Mike. His stupid brain couldn’t help internally cracking a joke about breaking Mike’s douchebag heart. Not for ten goddamn seconds, fucking hell. Josh wanted to punch himself in the face when Sam pulled away.

“Uh, Mike’s gonna be upset,” he blurted out. Holy fuck, why him. Why now. That grafitti was right, Mike Munroe sucks. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sam seemed equally surprised by what had just transpired, but Josh seriously fucking doubted that. She blinked at him a few times, one hand sliding down to rest on his chest. “Uh, welp.”

‘Uh, welp’? That wasn’t too promising.

“Sorry?” Josh tried. Not that it was his fault, but he felt driven to apologize anyways. But Sam had _definitely_ started it, if she wanted to pick a fight about it.

Sam seemed to snap out of it, and her face fell back into an amused expression. “I’m not,” she returned, patting his chest and turning abruptly back towards the parking lot. Sam was never sorry.

Josh felt kind of like his life was coming to an end. He figured it might as well end that way. Glancing around, he tried to confirm what had just happened with a passerby. Nobody was around or he probably would have called out to them: ‘ _Did you see that shit? Unbelievable, right?’_

“Would you hurry up?” Sam was tapping her foot impatiently some twenty feet away and Josh scrambled to get his legs working again. “And quit looking at me like that,” she added irritably.

Josh jogged to catch up. “Like _what?”_ He protested. “Like you just stole my big moment? Because you fucking did.”

“Oh, please, you were never going to even come close to having a moment with me.”

True, but extremely unfair. Josh had to defend his honor. “You’re going to eat those words…uh, someday, hopefully,” he finished, wilting slightly under her skeptical gaze. Honor defended.

Sam’s face did not seem to indicate any trust in that assertion. “Sure, Josh. I’ll just wait another couple hundred years for you to get around to it, shall I?”

“You are quite possibly the _least_ romantic person I’ve ever had the displeasure of being jumped by,” Josh muttered, finally catching up.

Sam grinned at him. “I can apologize if you like.”

Josh wasn’t actually sure that Sam could. She was so out of practice when it came to sincere apologies. “Not necessary,” he grumbled, walking ahead so she couldn’t make fun of the stupid face he knew he was making.

When they had reunited with the rest of the group, Josh tried to look normal up until Mike jokingly accused them of hooking up behind the bleachers. Suddenly Josh’s face decided to panic and look like that was _exactly_ what had happened. Sam just laughed and laughed and laughed. Well at least _somebody_ was having fun. Love is a pain in the fucking ass, Josh decided. Zero out of ten. Would not recommend.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sam can't be the least romantic person in the world because i still hold that title and i ain't ready to give it up yet. also, is matt still in high school or not? the mystery continues.
> 
> anyways.
> 
> thanks as usual for all the support, i read and enjoy all comments and stuff. if you want a reply, feel free to send me a non-anonymous message on [tumblr](http://coldmackerel.tumblr.com) cuz i tend not to publish stuff. or just indicate in your comment below that you want a reply.
> 
> cheers, friends.


	9. there's nothing in the shadows except the shadow people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and they're waiting to fucking kill you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna bump the rating up because i can't stop saying the fuck word and things are about to get creepy.
> 
> also look at [this](http://quickersilver.co.vu/post/131842203498) fun artwork. im cryin.

 

It was sometime around when Jess cracked a joke about “fending off the crazies” while she tossed back a few pills during Matt’s celebration dinner that Josh thought it would be really suave to damn near spit-take his water across half the table.

Shit.

He had forgotten to go to his therapy appointment that day.

And he had forgotten to get a refill script for his meds.

And he hadn’t taken them that day because he was out.

But he would’ve been able to take them if he had gone to his goddamn appointment.

Quadruple shit.

If Chris hadn’t left Léon: The Professional at his house none of this would have ever happened. This was all his fault. His stupid pretentious nerd-movie had suckered Josh into an afternoon of film analysis and he had forgotten to go see Dr. Van Halen.

Shit, shit, shit.

Jess was giving him a weird look, like maybe she knew why he had just covered Mike and Ashley in his spit. Maybe she did. Sometimes Josh thought that Jess just _knew things_ for whatever reason. Or shit, maybe the paranoia was setting in. Or both.

Jess gave him a knowing look.

Stop that.

“I know I’m hilarious,” she said slowly, “but you doin’ alright there, Josh?” She leveled an oddly responsible look at him and he delicately wiped his mouth on a napkin. Mike was glaring daggers at him while he pretended to be absolutely drenched. He wasn’t. Ashley at least had the decency to attempt a non-horrified reaction. It didn’t work, but it was a good try. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him and he didn’t appreciate it in the least. He was _fine_.

Josh managed to come up with some mildly convincing cough. “Just choked a bit,” he said, stomping forcefully on his own anxiety. Down, boy. It’s just one day, right? “Not that you aren’t hilarious,” he added.

Jess narrowed her eyes. “Hmmm.”

She knew.

Josh wasn’t sure what she knew, but she fucking _knew_.

How could he have fucked up so bad? Josh had been so goddamn good about meds because he was positive he’d be under lock and key for the rest of his life if he lost it again. Hell, they probably had him bugged. There was probably an alarm on his pillbox. The second after midnight on a non-medicated day and an emergency committee of his friends’ lawyers would be called and the psychosis-control SWAT team would come crashing through his windows. Well, no. But maybe. Who could say? Josh stamped down even harder on his anxiety. Fuck off.

“Sir?”

Josh nearly jumped out of skin and made the unmistakable noise of someone who hadn’t taken his meds that day. Shit, they all knew. Or did they? “Oh Jesus,” he swore, nearly toppling his water glass all over Sam.

The waiter jumped a little too and nearly dumped a pitcher of water on Josh's head. Maybe that was exactly what he needed. “My apologies, sir, I was just going to refill your water.”

“Huh? My what?” Josh asked, hand wrapped tightly around his water glass.

The waiter held up a pitcher of water. “Your water, sir.”

Was everyone looking at him or did it just feel that way? Josh sat up straighter in his seat and took a long look around the restaurant. No, nobody was looking at him except a few of his friends. Jess was still openly sifting through the contents of his brain, which were apparently on full display or whatever. Sam looked like she wanted to say something. Ashley and Chris exchanged worried looks. On his other side, Matt put a hand on his shoulder and kept him from slipping out of his own shifting body.

“Oh, yeah, right. My bad,” Josh laughed nervously. “I’m fine.” Wait shit, nobody had asked him that. “Er, I’m fine on water. All good here.”

The waiter nodded slightly before departing. Crisis averted.

Jess just stared.

Fuck.

“ _Breathing exercises, Josh. You’re just thinking too hard_ ,” Dr. Van Halen whispered in his ear. And alright, Josh knew that he wasn’t supposed to have anyone whispering in his ear, even well-meaning therapists, but he took the advice anyways. He was just doing this to himself, right? One day off meds wasn’t the end of the world. He was psyching himself out. After a few slow, deliberate breaths, he was able to dial it back a notch. Matt kept his hand on Josh’s shoulder, which was irritatingly thoughtful. It helped.

The conversation drifted away towards one of Chris’s nerd projects. Josh was busy staring at one of his forks and listening miserably while his brain told him to stab himself in the leg with it. Yeah, sure why not. Thanks, brain. Eventually Matt took his hand from Josh’s shoulder and Josh fought the urge to tell him to put it back. _Well, you’d better stab Matt_. Uh, no, he’d better not.

Josh stealthily slipped his fork under the table and dropped it on the ground. No disembodied brain voice was going to threaten Matt on his watch. _You still have a knife, idiot_. One by one, Josh’s silverware disappeared from the table and clattered softly to the floor. Another crisis averted.

“Josh where did your silverware go?”

Sam touched his arm and he panicked. “I ate it. Uh, I ate it, yeah.” He ate it? Oh, well done, well done. He slapped a smile on his face to play it off and she seemed to buy it, rolling her eyes. See, he could be functional.

Matt launched into a story about sports or whatever while Josh watched little eyes peer at him from the swirling wallpaper patterns on the walls. Other than that, dinner was quite enjoyable.

Eventually they all parted ways from the restaurant, dispersing to their own carpools. Josh could have sworn Mike was about to ask him how the stew had been, but he panicked at the last second and asked him how the game had been instead. Josh reminded Mike that they had both been in attendance and Mike said something unintelligible before retreating to Jess’s car. Josh was never going to make it easy on Mike. Not in this lifetime. Mike was too much fun. Before driving off with an embarrassed Mike, Jess had pulled up next to Josh and looked into his brain again like that was a normal thing people could do.

“Don’t forget to take care of yourself, alright?” She scolded. Oh, she definitely knew.

Josh smiled sheepishly. “You know me. Always…uh, taking care of myself.” That did not remotely sound like an appropriate answer. “Er, taking my meds and stuff. Not…like _that_ ,” he mumbled, only partially mortified.

Jess just gave him a tired smile. “Seriously, Josh. Take care.”

When she drove off, Josh knew he had to get in contact with his therapist. Jess was right. He couldn’t let this one wait until tomorrow. Sam was a few paces ahead of him and he skipped a bit to catch up. “Uh, Sam, could you do me a huge favor?” He asked, tugging on her sleeve.

She stopped and turned towards him. “Maybe.”

The trees were rustling ominously, scattering the light of an almost-full moon. It felt…well, it felt bad. This was a bad moon to be under. “Could you drop me by my therapist’s office real quick on the way home? It’ll just take a few minutes - just gotta pick something up.” He tried to play it off as casual, but Sam didn’t seem to take it that way.

“Is everything okay?” She disentangled his hand from her sleeve, and held it lightly. “You looked a little off during dinner.”

Josh shook his head and listened to the screws rattle around. “I’m fine, I just gotta pick something up is all.”

Sam stared at him for a few seconds, considering. Josh tried his best to look stable so she didn’t torpedo him off to the hospital. It was true. He was _fine_. But he would be better if he could get his meds and stop freaking out about it. “You’d tell me if you weren’t fine, wouldn’t you?” She asked skeptically.

Josh knew it was a trap. If he said no, she’d be pissed. If he said yes, she wouldn’t believe him and still be pissed. “I’d try to,” he offered.

“Would you?” It was more earnest than Josh was capable of dealing with at that point in time.

He offered her a grin and shrugged. “Well, yeah, but I think we all know how good I am at that. Trying doesn’t mean succeeding, Sammy.”

She sighed and pulled him along towards her car. “Well, try harder.”

The only thing Josh was trying harder to do was ignore the people he knew were hiding in the trees. Sure, they weren’t actually there. But they also _were_. They were totally there. In the trees. Watching. Josh pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself and counted how many footsteps it would take to escape back inside the restaurant. Too many. He felt a little safer inside Sam’s car until the shadows in her backseat began looking an awful lot like people.

“Josh?”

He jumped so hard his head hit the ceiling of her cramped vehicle. “Fuck!” Rubbing his head angrily, he turned an accusatory glare in Sam’s direction. “Jesus, what is it, Sam?”

“You are _so_ not fine,” she muttered, turning her keys in the ignition.

Josh crossed his arms stubbornly and looked away from her, pretending to be interested in the tree line where he knew people were waiting to kill him. “Just take me to Dr. Van Halen’s office, would you?” He spat.

“Dr. What?”

“ _Drive_ , Sammy. Questions later.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He could feel Sam’s eyes on him even through the thick darkness. The moon was just bright enough for him to be visible. She was watching. So was everything else.

Josh didn’t care.

He stared at the neat little “CLOSED” sign hanging on the doorknob of his therapist’s office. Of course it was closed. It was almost ten. Why the hell would Dr. Van Halen be in his office that late? Nothing was ever true just because you wanted it to be badly enough. Josh grabbed the door handle and rattled it violently. It wasn’t the closed sign that had him in a panic. Rather, it was the other sign.

 

_Away on Conference_

_Be Back Monday_

 

“Please let me in,” he groaned, shaking the door on its hinges. For good measure, he pounded a few times on the creaking wood. “Shit.” Josh pulled his phone out and tapped on one of his only three contacts. Maybe Dr. Van Halen would pick up his phone at least. Had he been told that his therapist would be gone over the weekend? Josh spent a whole lot of time not listening to him, so it wouldn’t be all that surprising if his weekend conference had been mentioned. The phone ringed and ringed and ringed without ever going to voicemail.

“Fuck!” Josh yelled into his ringing phone before hanging up. Fucking therapists fake-named after rock bands with stupid ear piercings and dimples and _reduced office hours_. Shit. Pacing back and forth in front of the locked doors, Josh could feel his agitation and anxiety threatening to choke the life from him. He rubbed wildly at the back of his head for a few moments before aiming a hard kick at the door. If he broke in, maybe he could forge the script?

Jerking violently on the handle, one foot braced on the frame, Josh roared in frustration. “Fuck you, Dr. Van Halen! Fuck you! Fuck 80s hair metal and fuck you!”

Somebody grabbed his arm, and he flew back against the door, pressed hard against it’s rattled frame. Sam’s eyes were wide in the hazy moonlight and her hand was still held up where she had tried grabbing him. His voice was high-pitched and weird when he laughed. “Sammy, Jesus. You scared the shit out of me.”

“What the hell is going on?” She asked quietly.

His nails scratched at the old wooden door and he pressed his back into it even closer. He really needed to get a fucking grip before she called the loony patrol. “Nothing, nothing,” he breathed. “Just lost my temper a bit.” Sam wasn’t threatening, but Josh couldn’t help feeling cornered. Breathe, idiot, breathe.

God, Josh must have _looked_ cornered, because Sam held her hands up and approached him slowly like a wounded animal. It’s not like he had rabies, honestly. “Hey, how about I just take you home, alright? I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

No, no, _he_ was the one freaking _her_ out. She was right, he should just go home and try to ride out his paranoia until Monday. Piece of cake. When Sam had slowly inched her way into his space, Josh offered her a tired smile and tapped his shoe against hers. “Freak me out? Not possible.” Well, she looked a little less alarmed anyways. “Unless you were to like, I don’t know, just kiss me out of the blue or something. That would be downright weird, Sammy.”

Sam’s shoulders relaxed and she gave him a critical look. “Oh get over it, Josh,” she muttered, taking his hand. “C’mon, let’s go before someone calls the cops on you, alright?”

“Alright,” he agreed warily, allowing her to lead him back to her car. The trees watched him every step of the way. Fuckers.

Sam offered to stay the night when she dropped him off, which meant he must have looked some kinda crazy if she was willing to risk the ridicule and not-entirely-fake come-ons that she knew came with such an offer. It was kind of sweet, but absolutely did not stop him from making fun of her. Nothing could save her from that.

“We’ve finally found your type, Sammy. Unstable and angry at doors.”

Sam glared at him. “You are _so_ difficult. And I hate you. And I hate that I’m worried about you.” Those seemed like good reasons to hate yourself to Josh. “Seriously, though, do you want me to stay? _Platonically?_ ”

Shaking his head, Josh tried to look horrified by the suggestion. “Oh, god no. Platonically? Hard pass.” Josh was pretty sure he had just seen a shadow person disappear around the West side of his roof and decided it was time to go sedate himself until Monday. Getting rid of Sam was tragic, but necessary. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted, throwing her car door open.

If Sam didn’t believe him, she didn’t bring it up. “If you say so.” She still looked way too worried for Josh’s tastes, though, so he leaned down and tried to not be an asshole for four seconds.

“Hey. I’ll call if I need to, alright?” He sighed. “Honestly, Sammy, you steal all the worry for both of us. Lighten up, Francis,” he joked while a shadowy figure glided past his bedroom window. God, he hoped his parents were home. Before heading inside, Josh walked back around to the driver’s side and knocked on her window. “Oi, where’s my goodnight kiss,” he leered when she cracked the window open.

She smiled back and nearly ran his foot over as she backed out of the driveway. “It’s driving away,” she returned as she left, leaving Josh standing there like an idiot. As usual. He couldn’t wait to make her live to regret kissing him. Would they ever make it past passive-aggressive sexual tension? Probably not. One step forward, two steps back.

The house was, unfortunately, emptier and bigger than usual when he let himself inside. No parents. Just him and the hundreds of shadow people hiding behind his furniture, waiting to peel his skin from his bones and hang his inside-out corpse from the rafters of his stupidly expensive house. Home sweet home.

After turning on every single light in his entire house, Josh set the pot of Mike Stew back on the stove and put it on to warm. He was starving, as usual. When he turned to investigate the source of a small creaking noise, Josh nearly punched himself in the face with the force of being startled.

It was just…himself.

In the window.

A reflection.

He walked cautiously towards himself and stared at the ghost cast on the window glass. This was some deep, metaphorical shit by somebody's standards. Josh raised a hand and Ghost Josh did the same. Josh waved and Ghost Josh did the same. Josh stopped waving and ghost Josh turned and walked away.

Josh’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Nope. Fuck that. Not in this lifetime.

This was just perfect. Josh stared at the empty, reflection-less window where his ghost had left him. A pair of red, red eyes opened out in the choking blackness of the night and Josh scrambled for cover.

Absolutely not. It was time to be sedated.

Josh flew up the stairs and searched frantically through his parents’ medicine cabinet. Mrs. Washington’s not-so-secret sleep aids were easy enough to find. One of the perks of being rich is you can just pay Big Pharma to knock you out. Only poor people have to fight nightmares and regret and dissatisfaction with life. Rich people can just take a pill.

Josh took three.

His family could afford it.

By the time he made it back to the kitchen, the stew was warm and he ate a gross amount of it but he was _still_ hungry fucking hell. He could feel the pills punching him in the brain, but he grabbed a tub of lunch meat and ate the whole thing. It didn’t help. In fact, it made everything worse. But his feet were becoming clumsy, his brain was becoming putty, and a man with too many teeth and not enough eyes was standing by the piano with a less-than-friendly sneer, so Josh hurried upstairs and locked his door. For good measure, he tucked his desk chair up under the door handle. The man with too many teeth was scratching at his door in long strokes, top to bottom top to bottom top to bottom top to bottom top to bottom and Josh backed away slowly. The chair would hold. The chair had to hold.

Ghost Josh walked back into the reflection of his bedroom window and began pointing back at his door, a worried expression fixed onto his face. When Josh got close enough to shut the curtains, he saw that Ghost Josh was wearing his psycho overalls. He jerked the curtains closed, breathing heavily in time with the scratching on his door top to bottom top to bottom top to bottom top to bottom top to bottom top to bottom.

Top.

To.

Bottom.

And then it stopped.

Josh let out a shaky breath and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Fuck, his houseguests were _not_ pleasant. Why couldn’t he have been haunted by like, Dora the Explorer or something. He could just trip out and let a talking map lead him on a merry fucking fieldtrip to blueberry mountain or wherever the fuck she was always going. No, instead he got Satan’s tooth fairy. Fucking Christ.

The pills were hitting him like a brick wall, at the very least, so Josh swiped his journal from the desk and plopped down on his bed. He pulled the blankets over his head. There was no telling what condition he would be in tomorrow, so he figured it was now or never on Matt’s entry.

 

>   * _Matt learned that bygones can be bygones and it cost him the satisfaction of a grudge._
> 


 

The words were shaky and nearly illegible, but it was going to have to do because something was under Josh’s bed. It wasn’t making a sound. It wasn’t moving. But it was _there_ and it was _mad_ and Josh was going to fucking die. Should he call Sam? She had offered. Shit, his phone was back down in the kitchen with the tooth fairy.

 _“Josh,”_ the underside of his bed called. _“Josh you’re next.”_

 _“He’s not next, he’s last!”_ Someone hissed from the other side of his bedroom door. It’s voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard and it’s laugh sounded like a wicked promise. The world outside of Josh’s house ended and the universe squeezed into his bedroom through the microscopic holes in his drywall where the eyes were watching him from. But those had always been there. They were put there years ago and followed him now. Waiting.

Well that was all well and good but it was going to have to wait because there was something crawling around in Josh’s brain. It was clever, but occasionally tripped on loose screws making it far less sneaky.

It was there.

Oh, yes, it was up there.

He huddled under the blankets listening to it trip on screws all night while a monster with Hannah’s face whispered instructions to it through his ear.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u all thought i was gonna post another 5k-word chapter didn't u. get fucked.
> 
> next chapter: basically everything falls apart
> 
> buckle up kids.
> 
> p.s. i track the tag 'balance book fic' on tumblr if you want to scream into the void at me i will be watching


	10. the man with too many teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you're not scared well then you're just not paying attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, writing is hard and my brain hurts.  
> be gentle on me kind readers. if you're confused then i'm doing my job right.

 

The world was ending and that was fine. Might as well.

Josh was pretty used to taking three steps forward only to take one step back straight off the cliff that hadn’t been there two seconds ago. Cliffs are shifty that way. Never know when they’re gonna suddenly be there. Never know when you’re gonna tumble. Any backward step could be your last if you’re not looking behind you. But hey, if you’re used to falling it’s really not so bad. That splat at the end, though, is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch _every_ time and that’s just something you have to take in stride. But Josh had never been very good at that part. The splat part.

Waking up the next day wasn’t the splat, though. No, no that comes later.

Josh clawed his way up through the crushing weight of three sleeping pills and a barrage of nightmares like you’d pull yourself up through four miles of quicksand: with a lot of elbow grease and very little success. It had to have been sometime in the late afternoon by the time he peeled an eyelid back and blinked himself back to a disappointing reality. Waking up angry is a piss poor way to start your day, but Josh couldn’t help it. He’d slipped. He’d forgotten to refill his goddamn prescription and had panicked himself into a corner again and someone was still crawling around in his head and this had all been completely preventable.

His room was still a hazy kind of dark, illuminated only by a thin ray of weak daylight from the crack in his curtains. Josh vaguely wondered if he had failed to close the curtains completely the previous night or if something had pulled them apart while he slept, intent on letting _them_ in. Had they gotten in? No, no, no if they had gotten in Josh would be dead. A single look at his door confirmed that it was safely wedged closed by his desk chair. They hadn’t gotten in.

Tentatively, Josh pushed the blankets down to his waist and sat up in bed. Despite the suggestions of his nightmares, he still had all of his internal organs. Probably. Upon further examination, though he had damn near scratched holes in both of his forearms. It wasn’t anything too serious, but it didn’t really give off the stable-and-recovering vibe he’d been cultivating lately. Ah, well. Easy come, easy go.

What was the best course of action? Josh thought maybe he would be safer in the daylight at least. You need darkness for shadows, right? Oh hell, probably not – those things were nothing if not persistent. A little light certainly couldn’t hurt, though, so Josh threw his blankets off and started to slide out of bed. Oh wait, shit there was something under there and it hadn’t been very happy last night. He couldn’t explain how he knew it was there, but overwhelming dread is a powerful thing. This was all in his head of course, but that didn’t make it…not real?

Real or not real.

Hmmmm.

Josh sighed. Well wasn’t that always the question? He threw on his best ‘fuck-it’ mindset and slid out of bed onto the floor. The good news was that none of that Evil Dead bullshit happened. Nothing had reached out to grab his ankle and drag him to hell or whatever, so that’s always good. The bad news was that his head still felt like the pit of quicksand he had just climbed out of. Everything was heavy. Everything was scary.

“Ah shit,” he muttered, rubbing a weary hand down his face. “I really didn’t miss this.” Before he could do something stupid like kneel down and check under his bed, Josh went to the curtains and threw them open. The one day he had really been hoping for some sunshine was the one day it was going to be cloudy and gloomy as fuck. “Great fucking timing for some pathetic fallacy. Nice story telling, dickwad,” he muttered in the general upwards direction of God or whoever was up there.

Leaning against his windowsill, Josh let his aching head fall into one of his hands and stared out across the Washington’s expertly manicured lawn. His nosy neighbor was still out pruning her hedges which was just plain ridiculous. They were straight, alright? Jesus, get out the sliderule and protractor already, woman. He shook his head and watched her frown at her west corner hedge for not being hedge-y enough. “You’ve gotta lower your expectations,” Josh said critically, shaking his head slightly. That poor woman was gonna get a nice white room next to Josh’s if she didn’t learn to chill out.

Josh had almost given up watching his hapless neighbor when something shifted in the corner of his vision and he glanced towards the back tree line where his yard touched hers. It was darker there, the grass overcast by the shade of the old maples encircling their property. He couldn’t be sure, but it had looked like someone was out there. Was his dad home? Josh didn’t really care to reveal his slipup to his parents, but waiting until Monday felt like a lifetime. Money can buy a lot. Maybe his parents could help him get hold of some medication sooner.

Josh leaned closer to his window and squinted at the tree line. Whoever was over there was…really big. Holy shit that guy was almost as tall as the fucking maple trees. When the distant figure finally turned towards him, Josh’s heart tried to escape out his bowels. A cruel smile with way, _way_ too many teeth was flashed at him all the way from across the fucking yard and oh shit that was _the guy_. Josh watched in horror as the shadow man gave him a little wave and turned back to his previous engagement. Pressing his face against the window, Josh strained to see exactly what that engagement was.

Oh, fuck no. The guy was digging. Just…digging.

Shit, it was probably Josh’s grave. That’s so fucked up.

Pounding on the window, Josh tried to get the man’s attention. The only attention he managed to get was from his shrub neighbor who gave him a worried look and a nervous wave. Josh just glared back at her. Not now, Mrs. Shrub. Josh successfully scared her back into her house before returning his attention to his own yard.

Ah, shit, he was gone. The partial grave was there, but the man was gone. “Fucker,” Josh muttered, knocking his knuckles nervously against the windowsill. It was way easier dealing with _them_ if he knew where they were. Now that freak was probably stumbling around his house waiting to kill him. At least there were fewer shadows to hide in during the day.

At that point Josh figured he had two options. One: he could stay locked in his room until Monday and hope he didn’t fall off the fucking deep end in the meantime. Or two: he could leave his room and try to solve his dilemma with the possibility of being eviscerated by the shadows. Neither option was exactly compelling. But as someone who had fallen off the deep end once before, Josh decided in the end that he’d rather be potentially eviscerated than waste away in his room, chewing on his own intestines or something. It was exactly those kinds of decisions that made Josh’s life fun and enjoyable.

Heart thrumming painfully, Josh removed his desk chair from against the door and slowly peeked into the hallway. He stood there breathing loudly through his nose for a few moments waiting for an excuse to slam the door and retreat, but nothing happened. When nothing tore his face off, Josh decided it was time to actually physically leave his room. Carefully, he padded into the hallway and spent a few moments looking both ways. Things were quiet, which would normally be a good sign. But they were almost _too_ quiet. To make matters worse, there were visible scratch marks on the outside of his door top to bottom top to bottom top to bottom. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Scoob,” Josh whispered to himself, putting his back tactically to the wall. This all felt very Scooby Doo-ish except for the inevitable gory massacre at the end. Scooby Doo with a violent, unexpected twist.

Slowly Josh crept down the hallway to his bathroom and nudged the door open with his foot. The bathroom seemed…safe-ish. He slid inside and quietly shut the door, afraid to make too much noise – afraid to alert _them_. With slow, deliberate movements, Josh washed his face and analyzed himself in the mirror. Did he look any crazier? Hmmm. He smiled weakly at himself and decided it didn’t look any crazier than any other day of the weak. And look at that: he had thirty-two teeth. _This_ was a respectable amount of teeth. None of that shadow man bullshit.

Feeling a little bit better about the amount of teeth in his life, Josh eased open the bathroom door and crept back down the hallways towards the staircase. Thousands and thousands of eyes watched him pad softly across the wood paneling and Josh tried to look less like he knew they were watching. If they knew that he knew, they would be mad.

When he reached the staircase he stopped dead in his tracks. Just barely within eyesight over the stair’s balcony, Josh spotted the shadow man hunched over the Washington’s piano with only his broad back visible. He wasn’t even made of shadows, though, because there _were_ no shadows in the gloomy overcast light filling the kitchen and living room. He was a glitch, fizzing in and out; his outline shifting in small jerky movements like it was struggling to remain in the real world. It was impossible to focus on him. Staring at him was like staring into a photonegative image of the sun, all the more terrifying in the light of day. Black, black, black.

Sam’s voice rang in his head: _‘Fight or flight, your call’_.

Josh froze and watched the shadow man reach out one long, black finger and tap an octave above middle C. Then he tapped it again. And again.

Silence. Three C’s and silence.

Swallowing twenty years of questionable decisions, Josh forced his right foot forward followed by his left. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Down the stairs. The shadow man made no indication that he knew Josh was there, but the shadow man knew _everything_ and he knew Josh was there and he knew how many teeth Josh had and what he’d dreamt about and how to destroy him. But he just sat in the silent applause of his three-C symphony and waited waited waited for Josh to make his choice. Each step was a choice. Choice choice choice, all the way down to the landing.

When he hit the landing, Josh’s hands were sweating and shaking. Irritably, he grabbed two handfuls of the hem of his shirt to staunch the trembling. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this without pissing himself. “What do you want?” He finally managed, voice barely audible in the roar of the silent applause bestowed upon the shadow man by thousands of watching eyes.

It took the shadow man a lifetime to turn around. When he finally had, though, he just smiled with all forty-two of his teeth and stared. Everyone was watching, but no one was _saying_ anything and Josh couldn’t stand it.

“Well?!” He demanded, nails digging painfully through his shirt into his palms. “Say something asshole! You’re the one who wants this. You’re the one who won’t leave me alone, so go on with it already!” He shouted.

Well now _they_ knew. They knew that he knew and any protection he had afforded himself by keeping that secret was gone.

Even without eyes, the shadow man _winked_. He fucking _winked_ before pointing that long, black finger at Josh and grinning _again_ with all forty-nine of his long, black teeth. Everyone was acting like Josh was missing something and it was pissing him off. But the shadow man wasn’t giving any more hints. Lowering his finger, he just turned back to the piano and sat there as if he was alone again.

“Fuck you, then,” Josh spat. “Kill me when you’re feeling up to it.” He couldn’t wait around all day, he had a therapist to harass and some screws that needed tightening. With an irritated grunt, Josh made a rude gesture in the general direction of the shadow man and made his way over to the kitchen counter. Thankfully his cell phone was right where he had left it the previous night. Keeping one eye on the sulking shadow man, Josh jabbed at his therapist’s contact and waited for him to pick up his goddamn phone.

No dice.

“Please pick up,” Josh sighed, pointlessly redialing for the third time. He had never been much of a voicemail kind of guy, but after the third ring he waited for the beep and added a quick, “please call Josh Washington back, I’m in a bind, doc,” before hanging up. If he was resorting to voicemail – the phone equivalent of screaming into the void – then Josh knew he was in trouble. No, his therapist would probably never even get that message. Trying not to feel too defeated, Josh set his phone back on the counter and headed for the fridge. A note that he didn’t remember being there the previous night was clipped to the side and Josh tugged it off to get a better look.

_Away on business until Sunday night. Call if you need us._

_Love, Mom and Dad_

 

“Ah, fuck.” Josh must’ve missed the note when he was flipping his lid last night. Man, when the universe wanted to fuck Josh Washington, it really spared no expense. This was all amounting to a pretty shitty weekend and Josh was fighting a losing battle with his anger. Honestly, how can things go so wrong so quickly? What an un-fucking-funny joke.

Just to keep a handle on the situation, Josh glanced over his shoulder at the piano. The shadow man was still there, but he was facing Josh again, his outline still shifting in a rather unpleasant way. Josh stared back, humming a low nervous note to himself. Every fiber of his being said that the shadow man would destroy him and that he needed to get as far away from him as possible, but the mere fact that Josh _hadn’t_ been destroyed yet kept him grounded in his kitchen. Where else would he go? The shadow man knew everything and could find him anywhere. There was no real point in running, but it was oh so tempting. Because the shadow man knew everything and he knew that Josh had reached this desperate conclusion, he smiled with all fifty-one of his teeth. Josh just hummed a little louder in the back of his throat and tapped his finger in nervous intervals of three on the kitchen counter. This was a rather one-sided standoff.

Abruptly, the shadow man stood from the piano bench and began slowly moving towards the back of the house with glitched, jerking steps. Good riddance. When he had nearly reached the large window overlooking the Washington’s backyard, he turned again and pointed directly at Josh.

Josh shook his head violently. “Fuck no, I’m staying right the fuck here. Bye, asshole.” In response, the shadow man lowered his finger and held his hand open, offering Josh another fifty-two-teeth grin. _“That_ isn’t anymore inviting, dude.”

Without any further invitations, the shadow man fizzled out of existence and Josh could feel the walls of his house creek under the weight of an absent god. The walls of his house had become the walls of reality itself, though, so this was mildly alarming. Where had the shadow man gone? _They_ weren’t happy about his disappearance. And they would never understand that it hadn’t been Josh’s fault. None of it had. Why couldn’t anybody see that?

Finally, the walls squeezed back together and breathed a long, creaking sigh of relief, no longer buckling under the weight of nothingness, as the shadow man fizzled back into view halfway across the yard. He twitched slowly across the yard in a slow, ambling path towards the furthest maple trees, dragging a shovel behind him through the grass. Some sick part of Josh was dying to see the shadow man’s grave under the maple trees. But the bigger, more reasonable part of him wasn’t going to go anywhere near that shit. He took three deep breaths and reminded himself to stay indoors. After all, it may be daytime but there were still _things_ in the trees.

Instead, Josh satisfied his curiosity by heading to the window to watch the shadow man throw slow, deliberate shovels of dirt over his broad, black shoulders. Josh had no idea how long it took to single-handedly dig a grave, but he was going to have to figure some way out of this fast. That fucker was going to bury him alive if he didn’t figure something else out. No thank you.

Josh started from the morbid scene of his own funeral procession when his front door jumped in its frame. No wait, that was knocking. Someone had knocked three times on his door. And then three more times. Would it be better or worse for it to be a real person at his door? How much of this situation would exist to a real person? How far off base had Josh managed to wander since the previous night? It was probably better _not_ to answer these questions, so Josh turned back towards the view of his backyard and waited for the visitor to give up. The shadow man ignored this development, throwing one, two, three more piles of dirt over his shoulder.

Both the door and Josh jumped again when the knocking increased in tempo and urgency. Josh could feel anger prickling at the back of his brain, clawing it’s way toward the front. “Not home!” He shouted over his shoulder before turning back again to the shadow man’s activities. The pile of discarded dirt was growing to an alarming size. There was no way a normal human could dig a hole that fast. And yet, Josh thought wryly that he himself had managed to dig a pretty fucking deep hole in only about 24 hours. Dr. Van Halen was right: with optimism, anything is possible!

If at all possible, the knocking became even more frantic and Josh decided it was time to get away. His heart rate had spiked dramatically and his jaw began to crack under the pressure of his grinding teeth. Whatever was fucking around up in his head had made some progress. Josh was livid. It was time to make his escape.

Shoving down the dread in the pit of his stomach, Josh pushed his rear door open and walked carefully out into his back yard, beyond the walls of reality contained only in the Washington home. No, that wasn’t right. The backyard still existed and the shadow man was still digging and his house hadn’t collapsed. The trees rustled lightly in the breeze, excited by his foolish choice to go outside. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, as it were.

Well if he was going to die, he might as well satisfy his curiosity. Josh took a shaky breath and dragged his feet towards the back tree line, the shadow man’s static-muddled form getting closer and more terrifying with each step. One, two, three steps and repeat. Two faceless figures watched him from the roof of his neighbors’ home, arms linked together and a featureless omen clear even from that distance. Josh forced his eyes back on the shadow man, back into the depths of his figureless form. He took a deep breath of air that didn’t reach his lungs. Onward, adventurer.

Only ten paces from annihilation, Josh’s feet gave up and he stuttered to a stop. Slowly the shadow man turned. So very slowly. Another eternity passed while he swung around. The shovel was no longer in his hand, but stuck upright in the growing mound of dirt. Smiling with all fifty-six of his teeth, the shadow man pointed more insistently at Josh.

The hole was…pretty deep. It would have taken a normal person damn near a full night of digging to get close to the depth the shadow man had managed. Josh just stared and stared and stared, unwilling to take another step closer. “You may be my god or whatever,” Josh said slowly, “but I’m not coming anywhere near that fucking hole.”

A cold wind whipped across the backyard and the trees began arguing furiously with themselves, whispering in harsh tones and scattered leaves. Above the spitting and bickering, a single non-existent voice rang out like a badly tuned radio frequency, fuzzy and painful to listen to.

_“You have no control. You are your own god!”_

The shadow man’s voice came from everywhere all at once - everwhere except his looming figure. It echoed through the quaking trees, booming from the very fabric stretched taught across a fake skyline and was whispered simultaneously by the thing in Josh’s brain edging his anger closer and closer towards his eyes.

Eventually silence settled back in, louder even than the shadow man’s voice.

“Well, I _have_ been feeling a little out of control lately,” Josh deadpanned, averting his gaze towards the ground. This creep was gonna kill him and he was totally asking for it.

“Josh?”

The voice came from directly behind him, and Josh damn near pissed himself. He turned around so fast that he fell flat on his ass and scrambled back a few paces through the grass. Sam was giving him a _look_ and yep, he probably looked as crazy as he felt. She took a step back, increasing the distance between them and closed her outstretched fingers. Delicacy was nice and all, but Josh figured they were beyond that.

“Wh-what do you want?” He babbled, completely failing to look like anything resembling the word ‘fine’.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly and he could _feel_ her thinking too hard even from five feet away. “Uh, you just had me kind of worried last night,” she said. “You didn’t answer your door, but I heard someone shouting back here and uh…well, yeah.”

Josh couldn’t help but feel a little smug that Sam looked just as at a loss as he felt. Not so easy is it? He stayed down on the ground, worrying thin strands of grass between his fingers and trying to focus on Sam instead of the faceless girls on his neighbor’s roof. They hadn’t moved but it felt like they were chasing him. Everything was always chasing, chasing, chasing him all the damn time.

“Josh, _please_ talk to me,” Sam pleaded taking a tentative step towards him. Towards the shadow man. Towards his grave.

Josh scrambled to his feet and circled around the left of her, back towards the house. If she was going to try to corner him he had to lead her away from all that. This was not a good place for her to be. She needed to leave.

It worked. Sam followed him as he backed slowly towards the house. The shadow man waved at him slowly in a way that clearly indicated that Josh would be back. He would come back to that grave if for no other reason than it belonged to him and no one else. Josh couldn’t help but agree internally. Somehow or another he knew he would be back. The trees whispered their agreement.

“What are you looking at?” Sam tried, still inching towards him as he retreated.

Josh swallowed hard. “N-nothing.” Forcing his eyes back onto hers, he tried to smile but it probably looked more like a pained grimace. “I’m just…tired.” Make a joke, idiot. Say something funny and she’ll leave you alone. Nope. He had nothing.

“What the hell was that giant hole in your backyard? Did you dig that?”

Josh tripped and nearly ended up back on his ass, but managed to right himself at the last moment. “The hole?” He squeaked. That was bad news. This was all supposed to be in his head, right? Fuck. It was real. The shadow man was real. He was going to die. He had to get rid of Sam.

“You’re off your meds,” Sam accused quietly. No, not accused. She was just worried and Josh was just too damn obvious.

Josh opened his mouth to say something soothing, but what came out instead was, “how the hell would you know?” It was bitter and angry like the thing in his brain. It had won. He hadn’t realized it, but he was _pissed_.

Sam stopped following him and froze. No, no, no they were only ten feet from the relative safety of his house. They couldn’t stop there. Josh felt a horrifying mixture of regret and satisfaction at the hurt look on Sam’s face.

“Let’s go inside,” she suggested.

“Fine.”

No matter how quietly Sam opened the back door, _they_ knew instantly and a thousand accusing eyes swiveled around and pinned him down the second they stepped inside. “Geez, not so loud,” Josh said, shooting Sam a less than friendly look. She was hurt. He was satisfied.

“Josh you look…really off. I think maybe we should call somebody.”

Josh didn’t grace her with an answer, but skirted around her and headed towards the kitchen. If she was going to follow him he could at least push her closer towards the door. At the rate he was going, she would probably just leave him for being an asshole. That was the goal anyways. “Well, I’m always off, Sam,” he muttered, pretending to be engaged with something on his phone screen. “Can we do this whole worry routine some other time, I’m not really in the mood.” Sam raised an eyebrow at him and a good portion of the hurt on her face was replaced with mild irritation. No good, Josh needed her to leave not give him a lecture. “ _Please_ can we do this some other time.”

Stepping closer to him, Sam tried to give him a firm look but it looked almost like she…oh, dear. Was Sam _afraid_ of him? Oh my. Josh was unable to repress an eerie laugh, disrupting whatever weird social flow they had managed to cling to. Sam flinched and oh yes she was afraid. “Please talk to me,” She tried again. “You never talk to me - not when it matters.”

Would she just fucking leave already? Josh took a shaky breath, but he could feel a heavy red curtain of anger crushing what was left of his mind to a bloody pulp.

_Talk_?

Oh, why not.

Josh was feeling generous.

“Fine, Sam. Let’s _talk_. You’re right, we never _talk_ ,” he said slowly, dropping his cell phone back onto the counter with a loud clack. “I think that’s our problem. Let’s _talk_.” When Sam took a step back towards the opposite corner, Josh followed her at an uncomfortably close distance. “Let’s _talk_ about my dead sisters, shall we? Let’s _talk_ about how they’re out standing on my neighbor’s roof as we speak watching the creature from my nightmare dig my own fucking grave. Let’s _talk_ about how I spent a year planning my revenge on a couple of kids who pulled a cruel, but essentially harmless prank that led to my sisters’ deaths. No, no, that’s not quite right. Let’s _talk_ about that. Only Beth died. Hannah _ate_ Beth after we abandoned her to die. Hannah turned into a monster and tried to kill us. Is that what you want to _talk_ about, Sam?”

Sam's back was pressed as close as possible to the countertop and if Josh hadn’t been sure of it before he was sure of it now: she was terrified. She should be. “Josh, that’s enough,” she said in a low tone.

“No, I’m not sure it _is_ ,” Josh yelled, throwing his hands up wildly. “There’s a lot more I want to _talk_ about. Let’s talk about me a little bit more because I _love_ talking about me. Let’s talk about me _and_ you because whatever we’ve been dancing around these last few weeks is one of the weirder goddamn situations in my life and trust me, Sam, that’s saying a whole fucking lot. Let’s talk about how I blame you. Let’s talk about how my sisters died and I can’t help but think it’s your fault.” Josh leaned forward and trapped Sam against the counter by placing a hand on either side of her. “Let’s talk about how I put on a mask, terrorized you, drugged you, and enjoyed it. I don’t think we _talk_ about that enough, do you Sam?”

Sam narrowed her eyes. “Alright,” she returned. “Fine. Let’s talk about it. Whatever you want to talk about, we’ll talk about.”

Josh was surprised to find that his own chest was heaving and his eyes were burning from being open too long. Oh, how he must look. Josh’s brain was roiling too violently to come up with anything else. Instead he just loomed over her, waiting for her to punch him. He deserved it. Just fucking do it already.

“You know,” she said slowly. “I told you a few weeks ago that I didn’t know what to expect when I came back to see you after Blackwood Mountain. I told you that I came to find out how I felt about you.” Her knuckles were a deathly white where they clenched the edge of the counter. “I lied,” she said softly. “ _This_ is what I expected.”

“Well, glad I’m finally living up to your expectations,” He said, a wicked sneer twisting cruelly across his face. “What changed your mind? The journal? It’s a good cover, isn’t it?”

She scoffed quietly and gave him a tired look. “That damn journal,” she mused. “Well, maybe it was. I thought it was helping _you_ , but you only used it to help everyone else. Have you even figured out what _you’ve_ learned from all this bullshit, Josh?”

Josh paused and considered for a moment. Their noses were nearly touching until he pulled back slightly. “Sam, that journal’s about balance. You pay and you receive. You lose and you gain. But you know what? I just don’t think it works that way for everyone. I think I’ve learned that balance is _bullshit_. I’ve lost _everything_ and I haven’t gained a fucking thing. Fuck that journal. Fuck balance, I want my life back! If everything’s such a goddamn mathematical equation and I’ve lost so goddamn much then when is someone going to  _fucking pay me_.”

Sam shook her head. “I was wrong, though, you know?” She tapped her shoe lightly against his foot and something twitched in his chest. “What I expected when I first came back to see you? That thing I thought might’ve been you? It wasn’t. _This_ isn’t you. This is what’s trying to _destroy_ you.” She leaned forward a little and Josh resisted the urge to retreat. “Now get your fucking coat, asshole, we’re going to the hospital.”

Ah, Sammy. Brave, brave Sammy. This wasn’t over, though. Josh grinned at her with his thirty-two teeth. “Sam, when you wake up from those nightmare you insisit you don’t have, you sure do a fine job of forgetting who the bad guy is. Let’s talk about who the bad guy is Sammy, because I just don’t think your nightmares are gonna go away until we do.”

“Let me guess,” Sam returned warily. “It’s you.”

“Million dollar answer, sweetheart. It’s _me_. There’s always someone under the mask, Sam. That’s why they’re called masks for god’s sake. There’s always someone under the mask and it’s not _your_ responsibility to save them or forgive them.”

Sam broke eye contact with him and stared off in the direction of the front door. She hummed quietly and turned back to fix Josh with a look he couldn’t quite read. “No kidding? Consider it a favor then,” she said wryly before bringing her foot down hard on Josh’s. As soon as he had stumbled back, Sam slipped out from under his arm and disappeared out the front door.

Josh hopped around a little, nursing his poor foot. Cursing to himself, he limped back and forth across his kitchen, agitated and alone. The shadow man was standing in the corner of the kitchen grinning at him with fifty-nine teeth. “Fuck you!” Josh roared, seizing a glass from a shelf and hurling it at him. It smashed uselessly against the wall, though, so Josh chucked another two with equal failure.

He screamed a bit more and whipped his phone into the sink while the shadow man filled his head with soothing words and lies. Eventually he tired himself out enough where he was just rubbing irritably at the back of his head, no longer feral, but spent and weary.

Quietly, the shadow man excused himself from the kitchen and ambled towards the living room. Josh just followed automatically because he didn’t really have a choice anymore. In the brilliant orange of a setting sun, the shadow man stood illuminated in front of the couch, absorbing the pleasant light drifting in through the windows and devouring it. The faceless girls from his neighbor’s roof were sitting on the couch, a space big enough for the shadow man ominously placed between them.

They were his sisters somehow. He just knew it. They didn’t need faces for Josh to recognize them. Slowly, the shadow man lowered himself between his sisters and the three of them sat wordlessly in the light of the last sunset. It was beautiful and horrible and somehow Josh found himself crying softly while the sun died quietly on his living room floor. Even _they_ had the courtesy to finally, _finally_ look away while he swore and wept himself into silence.

It was as dark as the shadow man himself outside by the time Josh heard his front door creak open. He wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve and turned back towards the kitchen where shadows were creeping softly in. No, not shadows. Josh took three nervous breaths while his friends bumbled around his dark kitchen, calling softly to him.

Josh rose from the couch and stood silently in plain view, darkness draped heavily on his weary shoulders. He wouldn’t call out to them, but he couldn’t very well hide from them. And deep down, he knew they had to be there. Chris was the first to spot him.

“Josh!” He hissed. “Is that you?”

Josh said nothing, but waved half-heartedly in their general direction.

Mike appeared at Chris’s side and squinted through the darkness at him. “At least he’s still here,” he murmured not quite quietly enough.

Sam appeared too and Josh felt like he’d been hit by a truck. A truck full of guilt and shame. Ah, fuck. “You brought reinforcements,” Josh whispered, causing all three of them to jump slightly. Oh, c’mon it’s not like he’d lost the ability to speak.

Somewhere in the further depths of the kitchen, Josh could make out Jess and Ashley lurking in the background. Gangs all here. Well, almost. Josh vaguely wished that Emily had been there too, because she’d just kick his ass and be done with it.

“Dude!” Chris was waving his arms frantically. “Your neighbor called the cops! We got here right when some poor rookie was about to storm Castle Washington. I don’t know how, but we convinced him to let us get you instead.”

Josh couldn’t really figure out why they were all whispering, but he didn’t care to violate the self-imposed conversation mute. “Uh, sorry?”

Mike held an arm out and stopped Chris from stepping forward. Mike was no fool. “Dude, you’ve gotta come out with us. Either we take you to the hospital, or you go in handcuffs. Trust me, we’re nicer.” Mike’s voice broke the sound barrier, cutting across his living room like a knife.

Hospital? Fuck.

Turning back towards the couch, Josh looked at the shadow man for a cue. He was under no illusion that this was his choice anymore. In response, the shadow man stood and shook his massive head, looming over him. Clearly this whole hospital business was bad news. The shadow man would never sign _this_ fieldtrip permission slip. Josh nodded obediently and turned back towards Mike.

  
“No can do, Mike.”

Mike flexed his fingers nervously and began a slow, deliberate approach. “Josh. Buddy. I know we left you behind once, but that’s not how this is going down again. This isn’t a big deal. Emily got in contact with your therapist and we’ve got a doctor on call.” He held his hands up. Mike comes in peace. “We ain’t here to lock you up, dude.”

Josh shrugged. Yeah, tell that to the shadow man. “Sorry, Mike.” And for his part, Josh really was kind of sorry about it. Some things are just out of your control, though. Josh looked past Mike to their audience and made eye contact with Chris. He was mildly amused to find that Chris was clutching a baseball bat in his hands, wringing the wood nervously. Josh looked down at the bat and back up at Chris, raising one eyebrow. Really, dude?

Message received. Chris gave him an apologetic smile and set the bat on the kitchen counter, disarming himself. Sam elbowed Chris in the side and he muttered an apology to her. Mike paid none of this any mind, but continued his slow approach. They were about to have a problem.

A slick, icy hand slid down Josh’s back and nudged him forward. Josh looked back into the grinning shadow man’s face. “Please don’t,” he murmured. This was not a fight he wanted to have or was going to win.

Mike rudely assumed he was talking to him. “We’re not hear to hurt you, Josh,” he said reasonably. He was getting _way_ to close. Josh considered running, but Mike would catch him. Josh was a lousy runner and a lousier friend, so he waited until Mike was within shoving distance and gave him a good one. Despite his cautious approach, Mike seemed surprised and stumbled a bit. At the last second, though, he managed to grab Josh’s arm and pull them both to the ground.

Pinned and cornered, Josh struggled vainly against Mike’s forearm as it pressed his chest into the floorboards. “Get _off_ me,” he hissed. The thing in his brain cheered him on. Fuck Mike. Fuck all of them. You’re pissed and you’re _justified_.

Mike looked supremely uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t budge. “It doesn’t have to be like this, man. But I’m not leaving you here,” he said stubbornly.

Josh glared up at him, the ceiling obscured by the shadow man as he loomed over them both. “Fuck, Mike, just leave me alone you drunk fucking failure!” He snarled.

Well that did it. Mike recoiled slightly and the slack in his grip was enough for Josh to slip out of.

It was time to go.

The shadow man thought it was time to go, so Josh had to go.

Josh rolled away from Mike and charged towards the kitchen counter, causing his friends to scatter. In the confusion, he zeroed in on Chris’s abandoned bat and seized it before backing towards the front door.

When he turned to open it, though, the shadow man blocked his way. Grinning with all sixty-six of his teeth, he reached his long fingers out and seized the bat right from Josh’s hands. He shook his head slowly three times and pointed gleefully at Josh.

Josh had to stay.

Somewhere behind him, people were shouting, but the world narrowed down to a two-foot radius and all the matter in the universe shrunk to the size of a pin in the center of Josh’s brain. Three eternities passed while the shadow man slowly, slowly, slowly turned back towards the front door and pulled it open.

Josh stood in the entryway and watched the shadow man as he went, bat held up for attack. He squinted at the disorienting lights flashing red, blue, red, blue, red, blue across his front lawn. A police officer took three steps forward from his patrol car, and released his gun from his holster while the shadow man stalked closer and closer and closer. Chris and Sam shoved past Josh like they were going to go rescue the police officer. Josh just stood there dumbly.

“He’s not going to hurt you!” Sam was shouting. The police officer was shouting. Chris was shouting. “He’s just confused!” So much shouting.

Huh.

Maybe he _was_ confused.

Time stopped and Josh looked down at his hands. His fingernails were bloody and chipped away, riddled with splinters from scratching at his door top to bottom top to bottom top to bottom. Dirt caked his forearms and mixed with the dried blood from digging that damn grave. The baseball bat was gripped tightly in his ruined hands. He looked up into the barrel of a gun some twenty paces in front of him and frowned. He was no longer in his entryway, but smack in the middle of his front lawn staring at a bullet with his name on it.

Oh, but of course.

You see, the shadow man _didn’t_ have too many teeth. The shadow man had a perfectly respectable thirty-two teeth simply because that was how many _Josh_ had. The shadow man had scratched at his door simply because _Josh_ had. The shadow man had dug that grave simply because _Josh_ had. The shadow man was standing twenty paces from a trembling police officer with a bat raised above his head simply because that was what _Josh_ was doing. Shadows are just cast by people, after all.

The shadow man had been right: Josh _was_ his own god.

Josh was the shadow man. Predictable.

Real or not real?

Josh looked down at his long, black fingers and then back up at the police officer, sights trained right on him. He was still shouting at him. Everybody was still shouting. Josh made to lower his bat, eyes fixed nervously on the gun. Oh, shit. Definitely real.

_Bang_.

Lights out.

_This_ was definitely the splat at the end.

Josh felt his feet disappear underneath him and the ground swooped up to catch him with a dull thud. His mind went black, black, black and the universe exploded back into existence without him or the shadow man. Eh, same thing.

The world had ended and that was fine. Might as well.

 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am...so so tired.
> 
> anyways, i think this does it for the heavy stuff. sorry to have interrupted your regularly scheduled bad humor, we'll be back next time.
> 
> next chapter: haha jk jk i ain't giving it away. u really thought.
> 
> just hum [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BmEGm-mraE) to yourself until the next update.


	11. when you die in grand theft auto, you die in real life (unless you don't)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> but at least you get a cool conciliation prize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rolls up in a shitty 1994 lexus drug dealer's car and drops this long-ass chapter off on your front stoop. we exchange a knowing glance through your front window. the transaction is complete. i put my shades back on and drive away again until the next drop-off.

 

When Josh managed to pull an eyelid open for the first time in god knew how long, the universe sort of scrambled to put itself back together. It was a little jumbled and there were probably a few pieces in the wrong place, but it was more or less whole. The world kind of un-ended and it vaguely resembled a third-grader’s art project: patchy and overly dependent on glue sticks. But hey, it looked alright to him.

He took a few experimental deep breaths and traced the neat, grid patterns of the ceiling tiles with his eyes. Eventually he conjured the energy to bring a hand up and wave it in front of his face a little bit. His head hurt like a motherfucker and everything smelled like hand sanitizer and political correctness. But alive was alive, right? Nobody was watching him. _They_ were gone, likely having crawled back into the slips and crevices of the fabric of reality. The shadow man was back where he belonged underneath Josh’s feet somewhere, stamped down and under control. Josh felt…well, kind of numb. But also a little relieved. He had just woken up but didn’t have that morning exhaustion. Instead he had the kind of exhaustion one might have after skipping a few nights sleep, like he hadn't been asleep at all. Accordingly, Josh let his raised hand drop to his side on the hospital bed. That was way too much energy to be expending.

Hospital. Yeah, that was it. Josh would’ve recognized those ceiling tiles just about anywhere. As someone whose eyes had spent a month tracing and retracing those stupid tiles over and over and over again, they were definitely on a first-name basis. A crushing tidal wave of memories and feelings and questions was hurtling towards him, but he turned his back on it. Fuck that, he was tired.

A monitor to his right beeped softly and Josh let his head roll to the side to make sure someone hadn’t pulled the plugs. There was approximately zero part of him at that point that trusted his friends not to pull the plugs. They would kind of shake their heads sadly. Pull the plugs doc, they would say. You should’ve seen some of the weird shit he’s been about this year. The dude would _thank_ you if you let him die.

Well hey now, that wasn’t necessarily true. Stay the fuck away from the plugs. Josh realized irritably that he was kind of happy to be alive, however the fuck that had happened. Somewhere behind him, the tidal wave of bullshit he still had to deal with cleared its throat pointedly but Josh continued shunning it. No, fuck you memories and feelings. Josh was enjoying being alive right now.

And in reality, nobody was actually trying to pull his plugs. Josh didn’t even really _have_ any plugs. All he had was an IV drip stuck neatly in his forearm and a pulse monitor on his index finger. The soft beep had just been a friendly reminder that his pulse was normal and he was gonna be just fine. That’s what Josh liked to think anyways. He really couldn’t make heads or tails of the monitor to his left, but it looked unthreatening. On hospital shows things beeped a hell of a lot more aggressively when someone was in real trouble. No, this beep seemed safe. And they said being a doctor was difficult.

Abruptly, Josh sat up in bed and his brain struggled to follow him up off of the pillow. When it finally caught up, Josh gave it an experimental shake – seemed normal enough. Holy shit, he was _alive_. Amazing. Modern medicine, indeed.

Josh stared into his lap and stroked the sheets of the bed with his bandaged hands. Even though his head was killing him, he felt like maybe there should’ve been a little more pain associated with being fucking capped by the 5-0. No complaints, but what gives?

Best not to dwell.

To Josh’s right, Ashley was dozing quietly in a chair, her head resting on an overly full backpack. Fucking nerd. There was another empty seat next to hers, but it looked like it had been recently occupied. Visitor #2 must have stepped out for a moment.

Everything felt weirdly normal. _Too_ normal.

Where were the handcuffs? Where were the five-point restraints and creepy doctors with friendly handpuppets asking him in goofy accents if the voices were treating him nicely that day? Where was his roommate, Hannibal Lecter? Once again: no complaints, but what gives?

Josh pulled the sheets back from his legs (yep, still there) and swung them over the side of the bed, wiggling his bare feet experimentally. Outside his open window, a rather pretty early evening sky was tossing out the last of its colors before settling into the deep purple backdrop of stars and swirling clouds. Involuntarily, Josh smiled. Hey, who the fuck knew why he was okay, but it was an appreciated gift. The smell of sanitizer and clinical evaluation was really bumming him out, though, so Josh decided it was time to ditch the scrubs so to speak.

Carefully, he pushed himself out of bed onto the cold tile floor. So far so good. His IV was still in his forearm, though, and he was too much of a baby to pull it out. Shrugging, Josh grabbed the IV stand and wheeled it along with him as he hobbled stiffly toward the door.

Ashley stirred slightly at the sound of his bare feet slapping against the floor and Josh paused. Should he wake her? Eh, too much work. There were probably a thousand uncomfortable questions waiting for him and a thousand uncomfortable explanations owed, but right now he was missing the best part of the evening and that was gonna be a major downer. Josh decided to just let her sleep and walked quietly out of the room into a long, white hallway.

Would they just let him leave like that? Josh stood in the middle of the hallway, clinging awkwardly to his IV stand and looking around nervously. It wasn’t particularly crowded in the hallway, but there were some nurses and doctors attending business at various points along the path to the glowing exit sign.

Just play it casual.

Setting off in the direction of his freedom, Josh tried to look confident and not like an escaped convict. These were not two feelings that reached his core, but hopefully they expressed themselves on the outside at least. Honestly he was kind of expecting a nurse to stop him. It was pretty obvious from his hospital gown that he wasn’t just a visitor. Hospital inmates lost the privilege of pants as a visible stigma of the medical social order. ‘Hey that weird man hasn’t any pants on,’ they might say and then he’d have to make a break for it. With or without pants.

Halfway there. To his left, a nurse was tapping away at a keyboard, perched behind some kind of service desk. Josh halted when they made eye contact and he waited for her to pull a gun on him or something. Ridiculous. She just smiled over her glasses and he even managed to smile back a little.

 Nobody was going to stop him.

Well, hell, alright. Josh grinned and wheeled his IV stand over to the nurse’s desk. A large jar of lollipops was just kind of sitting there and Josh decided he wanted one – no, he needed one. The nurse watched him select one with a distracted, but friendly smile still sitting professionally on her features. Josh tore the wrapper off of his selection and stuck it in his mouth. With a friendly salute, he resumed his journey towards the exit. Hell, the only good part about going to the doctor was getting a sucker. Josh wasn’t about to miss out.

One of the wheels on his IV stand was squeaking and normally that would’ve bugged the shit out of him, but Josh kind of liked this squeak. It was the squeak of survival. Fuck yeah, he was _alive_. And he had a _lollipop_. Fuck the police.

Finally, the sliding doors of freedom appeared in front of him. The exit was clearly not a main port, due to the distinct lack of traffic. Josh only paused a moment before tugging his IV stand along through the doors into a crisp but pleasant night.

Josh could _breathe_ out here.

The exit had let out into a small lawn and an offshoot of the main parking lot. There were a few perfectly shaped knolls rolling into a line of juvenile pine trees, rustling quietly in the breeze. This was a friendly rustle, though. Nothing was in the trees. When the trees spoke, they spoke only of leaves and squirrels and other pleasant topics of tree conversation. Josh realized he was still grinning and only grinned wider.

“Hehe, _nice_ ,” he laughed around the sucker in his mouth. “Fuckin’ A.”

Still chuckling like a madman who had found out he wasn’t all _that_ mad, Josh shuffled out into the hospital’s yard. The grass was nicely manicured and green and it felt great under his bare feet. He could see the last stretches of color in the sky, but not quite well enough. While he had a bit of trouble not tipping over the IV stand, he eventually managed to climb to the top of one of the grassy knolls and oh, wow. That was really something.

The sky had damn near rolled out a red carpet from the hill all the way out to some distant, beautiful place. Fiery oranges and purples danced along the edges, dying a soft and melancholic death somewhere along the way, laid to rest by a thick blanket of blue. A few stars were peaking out in the steeper parts of the atmosphere, winking cheekily like they were spoiling what the night was about to bring. Josh laughed through his nose at the sight and chewed thoughtfully on the lollipop. His laughter grew a little louder and he found himself wiping at the corners of his eyes with the back of his bandaged hand. “Ah, shit,” he laughed. “Goddamn.”

The grass was cold underneath his feet, but Josh left his IV standing solo and plopped down on the hill, pulling his knees up to his chest. Whatever drugs they had been pumping him with were something else. Somewhere deep down in the little optimistic pockets of his heart, Josh hoped he wasn’t on a damn thing. If this was a hallucination, then he didn't want to know.

Absolutely ridiculous. He just shook his head fondly at the stars and tried to figure out a way to freeze his life into one single moment.

“Josh?” Someone called quietly.

Josh waited for his heart to plummet and his anxiety to shake his brains loose, but it didn’t happen. Whatever conversation was about to happen would be okay. He just kind of felt it. “That’s what they call me,” he returned at an equal volume, not bothering to turn behind him toward the source. Faintly, he could hear someone climbing the hill up to his position.

The grass to his left rustled slightly and he glanced over to see a concerned Ashley crouched down to his level. Behind her Jess was standing a pace away, eyeing him in a friendly but appraising way. “Uh, I didn’t hear you leave. You scared me a bit,” Ashely admitted, staring directly into his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He meant it. He really, really meant it. “I just wanted to breathe a little. And I mean, goddamn look at that sunset, eh?”

Nodding slowly, Ashley drummed her fingertips on her knees for a few moments. She didn’t look at the sunset. Her loss. “How do you feel?”

“Hmmm,” Josh hummed, evaluating and taking inventory of himself. “Pretty okay,” he decided. “Alive.” It was the truth. His head hurt and he ached a little and somewhere there was an emotional well in the pit of the stomach just waiting for him to stumble backwards into. But he was okay. He would stumble and fall back into that well and when he hit the bottom, well fuck it he could just start the long climb back out.

Slowly, like she was about to pet a lion, Ashley reached a hand out and ran her fingertips over Josh’s knuckles where they were resting on his knees. “I’m glad you’re pretty okay.”

“You gave us a goddamn heart attack, ya lunatic,” Jess piped up, shattering the quiet tones they had been talking in. A bird squawked indignantly somewhere in the background and Josh had a hard time believing it hadn’t been Ashley who made the noise. Ashley whipped her head around and Josh could only imagine the critical look Jess had received.

“I’m sorry,” Josh said plainly. What else was there?

“Well, you should be,” Jess huffed, wrapping her arms around herself. “I told you to take care of yourself, jerk. If you don’t call one of us the next time you need help I swear to god, Josh. Everyone else is gonna give you a get-your-psycho-ass-out-of-jail-free card, but I know better.”

Ashley didn’t look all that happy with the way the conversation was going. “Alright, alright, just give him a moment would you, Jess?”

“No,” Jess said childishly. “I have to know that this nutcase isn’t going to go off on his own again. I need to hear him say it.”

Josh rolled his eyes and leaned back slightly to better express his displeasure in Jess’s direction. “Would you quit calling me crazy?” He muttered. And weirdly enough, he kind of meant it. Josh had spent the better part of the last few months wearing ‘psycho’ and ‘nutjob’ like badges, openly displayed and remarked upon. Call it coping or whatever, but in that moment it kind of bothered him. All of a sudden he just kind of realized it was a little…shitty? Yeah, fuck that.

Instead of arguing the point further, though, Jess’s irritation dropped instantly and her expression shifted to one of surprised satisfaction. “Aha! Now we’re getting somewhere.”

No. No they weren’t. Josh crossed his arms and stared down at his knees. “No we’re not. It’s just…well, I’m doing my best alright?” He said petulantly.

Jess shook her head. “Dude, do you have any idea how long it took me to quit calling myself crazy?” She held her hands out as if her point had explained itself sufficiently. “It hurts you, Josh. Even if you don’t realize it,” she finished, an apologetic smile pulling a little at his heartstrings.

“I guess,” Josh said, suddenly embarrassed by his reaction.

Jess smiled warmly. “I was wondering if you were _ever_ gonna get pissed. If you were ever gonna give yourself a break, you know? You’ve gotta be nicer to yourself, Josh. And this is as good a place to start as any. Trust me.”

A few more stars slipped into view above their heads and Josh counted them slowly, mulling over Jess’s words. “When did _you_ get so damn smart,” he joked, deciding he liked the way her words tasted in his mouth. Yeah. Jess was smart. She probably always had been.

Ashley was looking between the two of them, clearly a little lost. “Um, right,” she contributed. “Aren’t you cold, Josh? I’m not sure you’re supposed to be out here.”

No, not really. Like a fucking sap, Josh felt pretty damn warm. “I’m doin’ alright.”

Nodding, Ashley adjusted her position slightly. “I called everyone else when I saw you had left your bed. I don’t want you to freak out when people start showing up. I just wasn’t really sure what was uh…happening or whatever,” she mumbled, fading slowly out of her own sentence. “Sorry.”

“No it’s fine.” Josh fiddled with the upturned corner of a bandage on his hand. “Thanks for staying with me,” he added hastily, before he could change his mind.

This time, when Ashley reached out her hand to touch his, it was less like she was about to pet a lion and more like a slightly grumpy cat. The improvement was honestly quite touching. “Well, you did the same for me.”

Josh could feel both of their eyes on him. Evalulating. Studying. Thinking. He just let it happen. A large cloud of swallows was chasing a couple of crows away from the neighboring trees and he watched with detached interest while the night grew deeper. The moon was still large despite its recent turn to a waning cycle and it cast just enough light for the three of them. Ashley stood from her crouching position and Josh could detect the faint buzz of her and Jess’s conversation but he paid it no mind. One of the crows, having successfully been chased off from the swallows’ territory, landed a few paces away and stared at him suspiciously. It likely thought he was hiding food from it. Even though the only thing on his person was a half-eaten lollipop and a hospital gown, Josh felt just the slightest bit guilty.

_“Sorry,”_ he mouthed at the bird. The bird just ruffled its feathers and took off again. It definitely hadn’t believed him. Oh well.

“Shit, how did Sam get here already?” Jess said and well damn if she didn’t have Josh’s attention now.

“The same way she drives everywhere: like all she’s got in this world is three hours to live and a v8 engine,” Josh muttered. He sighed and began mentally sorting out his estate. To his parents, he would leave all of his pointy objects (already in their possession anyways). To Chris he would leave all of his electronics (even though he thought they were inadequate). To Jess he would leave all the food in his refrigerator (even if she had to cook it). To Ashley he would leave all of his books (loser). To Mike he would leave all of his families cheesiest romance records (get fucked). To Matt he would leave…well, he didn’t have anything good enough for Matt. And to Sam he would leave the mangled corpse she was about to turn him into. Deservedly.

“Jesus, Josh, you look like your puppy just died,” Jess said sympathetically. Yeah, only if he was the puppy.

Josh grunted and signed his mental last will and testament with a dramatic flourish after deciding to leave his untouched college fund to Emily so he could sponsor her while she was taking over the world or whatever. Josh couldn’t think of a more capable overlord.

Ashley and Jess had left him on the hill to greet Sam while Josh lamented their absence. Maybe if they had stayed, Sam wouldn’t have killed him. He had _just_ started to appreciate being alive again, too. Major bummer.

Flattening his legs in the grass, Josh leaned back onto his hands, staring up at the moon. His ears were tuned to the conversation behind him, though, and it sounded like Mike had arrived with Sam. They were probably staring at him. What was the best way to convey that he was no longer having an episode? Josh clicked his teeth thoughtfully on the lollipop and decided that his best bet would’ve been staying put in his hospital room. But that sunset, man. Priceless.

Shit, someone was walking up the hill. Act natural.

“I know you hate hospitals, but the nurses are gonna be pissed if you wander off like this,” Sam chided, standing over him.

“Eh,” Josh scoffed. “Should’ve used the restraints if they were that concerned. It’s my duty as a violent mental patient to test the strength of their security. It’s the natural order of things.”

Sam sat down next to him in the grass instead of ending his life, so that was good progress at least. They were speaking with a casualness that didn’t quite reach Josh’s heart, though. This wasn’t going to be one of those things that the both of them would be able to ignore.

Sam was staring at him. At least look her in the eye, idiot. Josh pulled his eyes away from the moon and turned his head to give her that courtesy. He couldn’t read her expression. “You haven’t been classified as violent,” Sam said, meeting his fidgety gaze.

Well that seemed like a bit of an oversight, but whatever.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked and oh yes this was the part where she took stock of his current level of pain and increased it twenty-fold. That was how this was going to go, right?

Oh well, best to get some answers before his tragic, early death.

“Was it just me or did I get shot?” Josh asked, trying to force down the creepy smile threatening to dispel the seriousness of the question. It didn’t work. He hadn’t really intended on the question sounding that ridiculous, but it just _was_. “Honest to god, Sammy, I thought I’d been wasted right there on my own front lawn.”

At least Sam was having trouble keeping a smile off her own face, too. But who knew if they were smiling for the same reason. “Uh, yeah, that’s not what happened. You know that ridiculously heavy wooden cutting board that Beth made for your mom in her freshman year shop class?”

“Yeah.”

Sam bit her bottom lip and looked at some point to the left of Josh’s face. “Uh, well, Mike sorta bashed you over the head with it. Everyone was freaking out and he just came tearing out of your house with that stupid cutting board. He fucking decked you, dude.”

Josh narrowed his eyes. “Okay, but I didn’t _imagine_ the part where I almost got shot, though. I’m pretty damn sure that happened,” he said irritably.

“Well, you _didn’t_ get shot, did you?” She made it seem so damn reasonable.

Josh gave her an incredulous look. “Really, Sam? I almost get Grand Theft Auto-ed out there and we’re arguing semantics? Honestly, you have the worst bedside manner.”

“Okay, well maybe you shouldn’t have left your bed. If you had stayed in bed, I would have a _bedside_ to be nice at,” Sam laughed. “Do you want me to ask you how your almost-gunshot wound is? Would that make you feel better?”

No, probably not. Josh crossed his arms. “Yes it would.”

Sam elbowed him in the ribs and he grimaced dramatically, holding a hand against his perfectly healthy ribcage. “Sam! Watch my almost-gunshot wound! That almost hurt really bad.”

Josh had a really hard time reconciling his expectations for a murderous Sam with the Sam that was laughing at his stupid jokes and smiling fondly at him. It made him nervous. He felt like he was just being _allowed_ to live. The nerves didn’t last, though. Sam grabbed his hand from the grass and y’know maybe Jess was right. Maybe Josh needed to be a little nicer to himself.

The silence stretched out before the two of them, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It was just kind of there. “I had some kind of bad day, there, Sammy,” he mused quietly. “Some kinda bad day.” He looked away and smiled wearily at the flock of swallows as they swooped up from the trees and swung around a bit before settling back in their territory.

Sam leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder like Beth used to do when she was having a bad day and wanted to commiserate. It hurt a little, but kind of in a good way. “Yeah, I know. But hey, you got a lollipop out of it. Kinda breaks even.”

Josh laughed a bit, trying not to jostle his shoulder too much. “Oh yeah. It’s green apple flavored too. Totally worth it.” He could feel her absently tracing the bandages on his hand and it felt a lot like forgiveness. “I’m sorry, you know?” He said involuntarily. “Eh, you probably already know that.”

“Yeah, I know, Josh.”

He swallowed down a million reasons not to keep talking and went on anyways. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it, really. And if you want to talk, hell I’ll answer anything right here right now with god’s honest truth.”

Sam barely took a second. “I find that hard to believe.” It was a joke, but it kind of stung.

“I mean it, Sammy. I’ll tell you anything,” he insisted.

Sam shifted a little on his shoulder and Josh worried briefly that she was going to drop his hand. He had to restrain a sigh of relief when she didn’t. “Alright, then. Anything I want to know. Hmmmm.” She tapped her finger thoughtfully on his knuckle for a few moments. “Oh, I’ve got it. And you swear you’ll tell me the truth?”

“I swear on the bullet that almost wrecked my shit, Sam. I swear it,” he said, making a crossing motion over his heart with his free hand.

“Okay Josh. Tell me the truth: who _really_ killed JFK?” She whispered secretively.

Josh frowned at the moon while Sam enjoyed the hilarity of her own joke. “Oh my god, can we _ever_ have a serious moment?” He muttered. He would’ve pushed her down the hill if he thought for one second his IV stand wouldn’t have been knocked over in the struggle. “Isn’t there _anything_ you want to know? I know we agreed a long time ago to pretend last year didn’t happen, but Jesus Christ, Sam, there are some things you just can’t ignore. You loved my sisters probably just as much as I did and you’re _okay_ with me basically pretending they didn’t exist? And you’re _okay_ pretending I didn’t majorly violate the terms of any non-psychotic friendship?” Josh expected Sam to pull away, but she still didn’t and it made him tired. “Doesn’t any of this _bother_ you? In case you weren’t aware: these are definitely things you have a right to be bothered by.”

He was dying to see Sam’s face – dying to pick out any cues regarding her emotional state, but their positions didn’t facilitate that. She was still running her fingers over his bandaged hand, though. “I guess I do have one question,” she finally said in a small voice. “Do you really think it’s my fault? Do you blame me for what happened to Hannah and Beth?”

“You know the answer to that,” Josh sighed. “And it’s not the one I gave you when I was off the fucking deep end,” he added. “Please don’t hold me to that.”

“I blame myself.”

Well of course she did. Sam carried the weight of everything on her back like we were all born with universe-sized backpacks. She cared so much that Josh thought it wasn’t really necessary for anyone else to. Surely there wasn’t enough room in the world to fit Sam’s caring and any one else’s. Moral responsibility was a full-time job and her closest confidant. It drove him nuts.

Josh lifted his hand from the grass and put it over Sam’s, stilling her absent movements. “Sam, I’m gonna give you a bit of unsolicited advice, alright? And if it weren’t really fucking good advice, I would tell you to take it with a grain of salt because I’ve received like twelve concussions in the last few weeks alone. But it _is_ good advice no matter how puréed my brain is.”

When Sam didn’t respond, he gave her hand another squeeze and turned to look at the top of her head. “Sam, you’ve gotta know that you’re worth more than what you can do for other people. You have _inherent_ worth. It’s not _contingent_ on how much you care or how many catastrophes you subvert. And frankly, it’s a little insulting that you think I don’t love you just because you can’t fix me. Those have never been mutually exclusive.” When she didn’t respond, he released her hand and turned back to stare at the twinkling sky. “And that’s just some friendly advice from your neighborhood trauma patient. I would say ‘take it or leave it’, but I strongly suggest you take it. I’m probably a little biased, though.”

Sam stayed quiet, but Josh couldn’t bring himself to feel like he’d overstepped his bounds. Some things just needed to be said out loud. Sam could practically read his mind most days, but not when it was important. And damnit this was important. Eventually Sam let out a long sigh and lifted her head from his shoulder, turning to look at him. She smiled sadly and tapped the side of her shoe against his foot where their legs were outstretched. “I hate to admit it, but that sounds like pretty good advice.”

Josh shrugged. “We’re just a couple of gorgeous, insanely smart college drop-outs you and I,” he laughed, throwing a friendly arm around her shoulder. She allowed it and he kissed the top of her head because that’s what he always did when Beth was the one grumbling her troubles into his shoulder. Beth _hated_ it when he did that. The memory didn’t hurt quite like he thought it would.

“And what was that I heard about you loving me?” She asked slyly. "I thought I warned you against doing that."

“You said you only had _one_ question, Sammy. Better luck next time.”

Somewhere behind them someone sighed dramatically. “Okay, I know you guys are having some plot-relevant heart to heart up there, but it’s freezing out here,” Jess called up to them. “Could we maybe move this beautiful scene indoors?” While he couldn’t be sure, Josh would’ve bet his life that Ashley was silently berating Jess for her interruption. But when it came right down to it, he wasn’t wearing any pants and it was getting pretty goddamn cold out. Jess made a compelling argument.

“I can’t believe it, Sammy,” Josh said sourly. “They aren’t enjoying our beautiful moment. Our friends are soulless heathens and they don’t appreciate the magic of friendship at all.”

Sam shrugged and climbed to her feet before offering Josh a hand. He accepted and allowed her to pull him up. “I think we already knew that. Oh, speaking of the magic of friendship: don’t forget to thank Mike. He really saved your ass back there, you know. Better a concussion than a hole in your chest.”

“I dunno, Sammy. I think you guys really need to find a better way of dealing with me besides bashing me over the head.” When she shot a stern look his way, Josh held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine I’ll go thank my Mike in shining armor.”

Sam helped him drag his IV stand down the hill without knocking it over and they made their way over to where Jess, Mike, and Ashley were shivering quietly. Mike was looking everywhere except at Josh.

“Mike! The man of the hour!” Josh called. Mike looked delightfully frazzled and Josh was kind of ashamed by how happy that made him. Good old Mike. When he finally reached him, Josh grinned at him and tossed aside the stick from his lollipop. “Sam told me you saved me from a gruesome end. Your very own redemption arc! You’re a pal, Mike.” Mike watched in horror while Josh reached out, grabbed his face and planted a kiss on each of his cheeks. With a final affectionate pat, Josh stepped back to allow Mike enough room to die of embarrassment. Oh, yeah. That was _exactly_ as satisfying as Josh thought it would be. “Hey, cheer up dude,” Josh laughed. “I’m basically wearing a dress right now. Just pretend you got kissed by a really pretty girl.”

Mike’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water and Jess was hiding a massive grin behind her hand. Ashley’s eyes were the size of saucers. Josh only laughed harder, circling around the side of them to drag his IV stand back inside. Mike would get over it in a few decades probably. Josh? No, he would never be over it. Hilarious.

Making his way back inside, Josh looked over his shoulder to find the rest of them wandering in. Mike was so red. Priceless. Jess and Sam looked like they were going to piss themselves.

Josh was just considering which flavor of lollipop he was going to try on his way back to the hospital room when he heard a disturbance down the hallway perpendicular to his own. It sounded like someone was running with very squeaky shoes on. Josh was rapidly approaching this branch of hallway, but he didn’t imagine it had anything to do with him.

Not true.

When the offshooting hallway came into view, Josh turned and made eye contact with an incredibly flustered Chris. Chris stopped dead in his tracks, out of breath and disheveled. Matt skidded to a halt behind him a few seconds later, less out of breath, but equally surprised.

“Oh, uh, what’s up guys?” Josh asked. “Where’s the fire- _oof_.”

Chris had practically bowled him over, crushing Josh’s poor, poor head against his shoulder. “Oh my god. Dude I didn’t expect you to be awake so soon. Bro you almost got Grand Theft Auto-ed out there. I swear you were about to get wasted on your own lawn and I’m an idiot for bringing a baseball bat, seriously why would I think that was a good idea? Jesus, dude, that was so fucked up,” he babbled. Josh tried to extricate himself from Chris’s embrace but it was no good. Chris’s deathly iron-nerd grip was too much. He looked pleadingly over Chris’s shoulder at Matt, but Matt just shrugged apologetically.

“You’re killin’ me, Chris,” he managed to choke out.

Suddenly, Chris released him, looking slightly guilty. “Sorry, dude. Seriously, though, I thought you were gonna get capped. I nearly shit myself, honest to god.”

Josh looked over his shoulder and gave Sam a smug look. “Told you I was gonna get capped.”

“Oh please,” she muttered. “You two are so dramatic.”

The nurses milling around the hallways were giving them all weird, slightly annoyed looks, but Josh couldn’t be bothered with that. It actually felt pretty damn good that they were all there. Chris pulled him back into another hug and Josh nearly lost his head trying to pry himself out again.

“Dude, you are so lucky that Emily agreed to help you out,” Chris laughed, ruffling Josh’s hair in a less than gentle manner.

Josh frowned and glanced over to where Matt was standing. “What was that about Emily?”

Chris slapped his back and nearly knocked him to the floor. “Shit, you didn’t hear? We were all freaking out after Mike clobbered you and Matt called Emily on the DL asking for legal advice. She’s a fucking genius, man. She was all pissy that we called or whatever, but she dropped what she was doing and got you out of some serious trouble, dude. She went all law student on their asses and the whole incident went away. She was the one who got in contact with your therapist too. I don’t know what kind of evil magic she used, but everything got squared away somehow.” Chris paused and waved his hand slightly in front of his face. “I mean, you may or may not owe her your soul now, but whatever.”

Josh stared at Matt. Matt was reasonable. He would tell him if this was all some elaborate hoax or not. “Yeah, that’s basically the gist of it,” Matt shrugged. “Although I’m pretty sure Emily would murder any of us if she thought we had told you this.”

There hadn’t been many times in the last twenty years that Josh had found himself at a loss for something dumb to say, so this moment stood out to him. Emily was a hard person to figure, but Josh decided right then and there that he really had no clue what she was about. Emily was an enigma. A wonderful, abrasive enigma. And shit he owed her the biggest thank you in the entire world. Double shit, because if he even tried to approach her with that thank you, she’d kill him. What a predicament.

“I don’t really know what to say,” Josh admitted.

“If you want to live to see your next birthday, I would suggest saying nothing whatsoever,” Matt laughed, patting Josh’s back gently. Josh wondered just where Matt had learned to pat backs because it felt like Mr. Rogers had just tucked him into bed and read him a bedtime story. Matt was too good for any of them. God bless Matt.

“I’m not very good at that.” Feeling a little uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on him, Josh shuffled toward the service desk and began digging around in the candy bowl. “Has anyone seen my parents?” He called over his shoulder, selecting another lollipop. “I feel like they might be a little concerned about all this.”

“I got in contact with them,” Chris assured him. “They’re trying to get an earlier flight back, but aren’t having a lot of luck. Don’t worry, they only had _mild_ heart attacks when I narrated the whole thing. You’re looking at maybe six or seven years of house arrest at the worst.”

Josh hummed around the candy in his mouth. “Eh, that’s not as bad as I expected. It’s gonna be like thirty years of house arrest if I don’t get home to patch up the grave I dug for myself in my backyard, though. That shit freaks _me_ out and I’m the one who dug it apparently.”

“No need,” Matt said, looking up from where he was trying to untangle some of the cords around Josh’s IV stand. “I took care of it already. Nobody deserves to have to go back home to that. I’ve gotta say, though, that was an impressive hole.”

Josh briefly considered kissing Matt too, but he normally reserved that as a tool of revenge. Maybe he should just go kiss Matt full on the lips anyways. Matt would probably take him out to dinner to apologize for being unable to reciprocate Josh’s feelings. Josh would’ve been honored to have his heart broken by Matt. Anyways.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re too good for this world?” Josh asked, shaking his head fondly. Matt looked slightly embarrassed, but in a modest way. Christ, that dude was straight out of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. Was it too late to kiss him? Hmmm.

“How’s your head?” Chris asked, interrupting Josh’s contemplations. “Mike dropped you like a sack of flour, man.”

“Well, strangely enough, it feels _exactly_ like I got dropped like a sack of flour,” Josh returned, heading back down the hallway. They must’ve made a weird procession. Josh couldn’t fathom what he had done to deserve the volume of care tailing behind him, but it was more endearing than embarrassing when he considered the totality of his circumstances. From his friends’ point of view, it probably just seemed like Josh had had a panic attack and became disoriented. Maybe it was better that way. Surely Emily and the doctors were aware that he had gone full psychotic-break over the course of the weekend, but the rest of them were delightfully in the dark. Who knows, maybe someday Josh would tell them what it had been like. Not today, though. Today he was alive and as Matt had pointed out, that was the only requirement for seeking a better tomorrow. It’s all about perspective.

When they got back to his room, Josh put on the television and faded out of the general conversation. Ashley stealthily returned to her homework (nerd) and Chris divided his attention between taking every possible opportunity to touch Josh’s shoulder and point out mistakes in Ashley’s homework (double nerd). Mike still looked kind of traumatized. Whenever Josh began to feel down he could just look over at Mike’s face. Instant mood boost. Jess had made herself at home on half of Josh’s bed, utilizing his bed’s table to scribble a rather irreverent picture of Josh surrendering to a full SWAT team. Matt was kind of mortified by the drawing, but Josh thought it was hilarious. That one was going on his wall, no doubt about it. Bizarrely, he kind of missed Emily. Somewhere far from the hospital, Emily probably felt the sudden urge to take a shower and order a hit on him.

Aw. Friendship.

Sam fell asleep long before Josh did. It must’ve been exhausting being the reincarnation of an environmentally friendly Mother Theresa with Hannibal Lecter for a friend. Josh could sympathize at least that much. But it didn’t stop him from begging Jess to draw on her face. Matt intervened on Sam’s behalf and Josh couldn’t even fault him for it. Matt could murder Josh in cold blood and Josh wouldn’t fault him for it. As it were, Josh didn’t last all that much longer than Sam. His head felt stuffed with cotton and the nurses kept stealthily adding things to his IV, which could’ve easily been sleeping aids or potassium chloride. Either way, Josh grew weary and felt his eyelids drooping hopelessly. Before he drifted off, he scribbled a reminder on the palm of his hand with Jess’s pen.

 

>   * _Sam learned that she is worth more than what she can do for other people and it cost her the benefits of not having an asshole for a friend._
> 


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been thinkin lately about how many more chapters this fic is gonna have. i'm thinking we got maybe 3 more. idk for sure yet, but we'll figure it out.
> 
> i've got a bunch of exams this week, so you probably won't see an update until the late weekend. cheers, friends.
> 
> p.s. cheers to all of you still with me, commenting or otherwise. i live for your feedback and continued patronage.
> 
> drop me a line on [tumblr](http://coldmackerel.tumblr.com) and check out this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uiNlM2d-hr0) i've been jamming to lately. good stuff, good stuff. stay radical.


	12. if it feels like everybody's making fun of you, they probably are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> but they only do it because they love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes i wish it took people as long to read things as it takes me to write them because goddAMN

 

Josh honestly hadn’t even known that they _had_ graves. How do you put a person to rest without the actual person? Symbolically? Horseshit.

It was just a couple of expensive stones with two names and abysmally short life spans etched into them. They were nearly identical. Same last name, same birth date, same vague death date. I mean, if you wanted to be persnickety about it, Beth had apparently died a year before Hannah, who had then spent the next year slowly transforming into the embodiment of everything evil and tragic in the world only to turn around and try to kill everyone she used to love. But hey, who was keeping track. Not Josh.

You know what, it was probably better that they had been given the same death date. Rich people can afford fancy graves and cushioned realities and self-serving symbolic burials. If you can afford it, why not?

It was a relatively pleasant day. Some kind of warm front had moved in overnight, bouncing the temperature back up to a cool autumn day instead of the plummeting weather quality indicative of their descent into winter. The sun was out too, warming the dark color of Josh’s jacket into his back as he stood there deciding how to feel about graves and sisters and rich people. His parents had dropped some expensive bundle of flowers between the twin stones before strategically retreating to the car so he could have some ‘alone time’ with a bunch of rocks and empty dirt. Josh wouldn’t have gone at all, but Hannah would have thought it was sweet. Beth would’ve gagged. The expensive stones didn’t express either of these emotions. Empty, empty, empty. That’s all it was.

A bunch of crows were fidgeting far above Josh’s head in the sweeping red oaks, bent and hunched from years of hard winters and second-hand sorrow. The crows squawked and bickered in a symphony that sounded a whole lot like _“you’re in a graveyard! Don’t forget! We’re crows and we symbolize death you dumb fuck!”_ Thanks. Josh had nearly forgotten he was in a graveyard despite being literally surrounded by gravestones. Thank god there was a murder of crows cackling nonsense above him. Real great.

A pleasant breeze kicked up, carrying the chattering above him a little further out and politely muffling them with the sound of shifting leaves. Josh pulled his jacket a little tighter around his neck and pulled his hood up. He wasn’t doing this whole paying your respects thing very well. What was the point? They weren’t there. They weren’t listening. They were dead. He frowned at the gravestones. Pointless.

When Josh died, he wanted to be stuffed and turned into a horrible, horrible scarecrow in a lonely cornfield somewhere. For some reason, Josh had always been irritated that random strangers he passed on the street had no idea what he’d done. Who he was. What he deserved. Crucified on a pole, mutilated and stuffed with a morbidly goofy hat on his dead skull, people would _know_. One look at Josh the Scarecrow and any passing stranger could assume he had done some truly questionable things in his lifetime to end up that way. That’s all Josh wanted. A quiet cornfield and the ease of silent acceptance for his crimes. The crows could land on him and maybe they’d laugh or maybe they’d feel sorry for him (please don’t) or maybe they’d be too afraid of him to go anywhere near that cornfield. It wouldn’t matter. The seasons would slip into years and decades and Josh could rest in the hypnotic rocking of the turning of the world and nobody would try to bring him flowers or buy him an expensive gravestone.

But Josh’s parents had spent a lot of money on those pointless rocks, so Josh tried to think of what he might want to say if his sisters _had_ been able to hear him.

“Well,” Josh announced awkwardly. “I feel like an idiot talking to a bunch of rocks, but you both always kind of enjoyed humor at my expense so I might as well keep going.” The crows above him just laughed and laughed and laughed. “Do you hear those assholes up there? Honestly, how do you even get any ghost sleep with that racket?” At least the crows thought he was funny, even if he suspected they were laughing _at_ him and not necessarily _with_ him.

“So,” he plowed on, “what’s being dead like? Being alive is kind of shitty as usual. Ups and downs, you know. Let’s see…oh, I got the police called on me, freaked out and almost got shot so there’s that. I promise it’s not quite as funny as it sounds. Definitely close, though.” He shuffled his feet absently, kicking up the soft rotting leaves around their graves. “Oh yeah, Sam randomly kissed me about a week ago. So uh, sorry about that Hannah. I feel like that might be against girl code or something. But you went and died so I can’t really double check if you’re cool with it. Don’t take it too hard, though, I can never tell what things mean with Sam. Also I’m a huge idiot so there’s that. I guess what I’m trying to say is we’re not going to be announcing our engagement anytime soon or whatever, so you don’t have to be too angry with me.”

Behind him, Josh heard a twig snap loudly and he was flung back to reality. Oh fuck. See there were two possibilities. One: his parents had come back from the car and heard him talking to himself. They were either about to phone his therapist or were touched by Josh’s acceptance of his new rock sisters. Both bad. Two: some stranger heard him and was majorly creeped out. Sam had told him once that he looked like a ghost. Another time she had told him he looked like a skeleton. If he turned around now, at the very least, he might be able to convince the stranger that _they_ were the one seeing things. Josh swore his pranking days were behind him, but what about a prank of survival? He was over thinking this.

Slowly, Josh turned his head to the side and watched an incredibly tall man wearing a sweeping long coat stalk over on the stilts he called legs to a gravestone some thirty feet from where Josh was standing. The man stopped in front of one of the stones and rested a hand gently on its surface. Josh couldn’t see his face from that distance, but it looked like he was having some kind of moment. Suddenly Josh felt irreverent for his dumb conversation with nobody. Graveyards were for people who wanted to remember. Josh was trying to forget.

The man didn’t stay long. He stroked the top of the gravestone a few times and set a bottle of something in the grass in front of the stone before departing. “Y’know,” Josh said slowly, “I wish I knew what you wanted from me.” He turned away from the man’s departing figure and stared down at his feet. “Why does it feel like everybody else is so good at knowing what their dearly departed would’ve wanted? What does that even mean? _‘It’s what they would’ve wanted’_. Ugh.”

Josh grunted in frustration, clenching and unclenching the fabric of his shirt in his hands. “Why’d you have to go and die, huh? You went and left mom and dad with the broken kid. They had two and a half kids and now they only have half a kid. Way to go guys.” He realized he’d been systematically grinding his heels into the soft, sandy dirt and stopped himself before he damaged the grass too badly. “This blows. You broke my stupid heart, you know?” The sun felt too warm at his back. It felt like a friend trying to hug him when all he wanted was to be left out in the rain. “Everything sucks and I miss you guys.”

Sighing, Josh crouched down and dropped his face into his hands, elbows digging into his knees. Part of him wanted to lie on the ground and let the grass grow slowly over him into his own grave plot. Then his parents could buy him an expensive stone and engrave it with _‘It Should Have Been Me, Dear God Why Wasn’t It Me”_.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted quietly. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume that you want me to forgive myself for what happened to you guys. But I can’t. And I’m sorry. But hey, we find ways all the time to live with things we don’t think we can live with. So I won’t forgive myself. But hell, I’ll find a place to put it while I go about my day. That’s the best I’ve got.”

An ant crawled over Josh’s left shoe and he watched it disinterestedly. The graveyard was quiet again. The only sound was the shifting leaves and an echo of the best he could do. He let out a single snort of insincere laughter. “No comments? Nothing to add?”

Silence.

“No, I thought not. I’m talking to some dirt and rocks after all,” he sighed, standing up to relieve the tension in his knees. The gravestones watched him stand, detached and callous and definitely _not_ his sisters. In the distance a church bell tolled out the hour sadly and the crows grew silent as if marking time.

Josh stared at those stupid near-identical stones and felt his chest constrict painfully like it might be able to hold his heart in place and stop it from dropping into the rotting leaves at his feet. How do you get over something like this? Is that even possible? When something horrible happens, who picks up the tab? Josh couldn’t afford it. He was fucking broke. Sure, everyone was _trying_ to split the bill, but it was impossible. It was just going to hurt like a motherfucker forever until everyone adjusted their threshold and “hurts like a motherfucker” became their new “normal”. Maybe getting over something is impossible. Maybe all people can really do is raise their expectations for just how shitty things can get and reevaluate from there. But Josh had spent most of his life lowering peoples’ expectations so this one was going to be difficult.

Ugh. What a drag.

“Ah, there I go making it about myself. Sorry,” Josh said, brushing a stray leaf from the top of Beth’s marker. “I guess I’ll just figure it out, eh? What else is there? Can’t go back.” He took a step back toward the car and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His parents were probably waiting for him. “I don’t think I’ll come back here. I have no idea where you guys are, but I know you’re not here. Just start rattling my bookcase or flickering the lights if you ever want to talk and I’ll know it’s you assholes. Catch you on the flipside,” he finished, turning back in the direction of his dad’s car.

Well, talking to a couple of over-priced rocks with his sisters’ names on them hadn’t exactly felt like a spiritual connection, but it wasn’t entirely a waste of time. We all must occasionally scream uselessly into the void. Josh was long overdue for his void screaming, so it all worked out in the end. It had definitely felt weird, though. He spent so much time trying not to think about Beth and Hannah and everything related to their demise that he hadn’t realized how rusty he had gotten at _feeling_ things. Everyone else had probably noticed it too. Hopefully they took it as a coping strategy instead of him just being some unfeeling douche-wagon. Can’t be bothered with that now, though.

When he had finally reached his dad’s car, his parents were still standing outside, leaning against its frame in silence. Like a properly conditioned child of semi-respectable upbringing, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as he approached. He hadn’t really done anything wrong, but their posture was reminiscent of some of their more memorable lectures.

“Pretty place, right?” His dad called out to him.

Josh shrugged and watched his feet pad across the pavement. “Yeah, I guess. If you like rocks and dead people.” He winced at his own words. Pull it together. “Er, sorry. It’s uh, very pretty.” If he wasn’t in trouble before, he sure was now.

Mr. Washington laughed one of his heartier laughs, which had been notably absent from their household in the last year and Josh glanced up suspiciously. Even Josh’s mom was hiding a small smile behind her hand. He looked behind him to make sure something funny wasn’t going on back there. Nope. Just dead people and rocks.

“What?” He demanded, reaching his amused parents.

Josh’s dad just shook his head fondly and punched his shoulder. “I don’t know. We just wondered how you’d react to all this,” he said, gesturing at the general area. “You’ve never been one much for cheap sentiment. You and Beth had that in common,” he chuckled. “Hannah would probably be offended, though.”

Josh’s face screwed up into an expression best described as a mix between indignation and confusion. First of all: how dare they. Second of all: Josh hadn’t heard his dad casually reference his sisters since their disappearance. He wasn’t really sure how to feel, but his parents just laughed at him.

Eventually the ridiculousness of the situation caught up to him and Josh joined their easy laughter. Either they had all cracked or the scales were tipping and their pain thresholds were finally readjusting. After all, if something’s too bizarre for the status quo, maybe it’s time to just change the status quo.

“I was _trying_ to be sincere,” Josh defended, slapping his dad’s hand away when he tried to punch his shoulder again. “I may not understand the purpose of a couple of headstones without bodies, but I can at least be supportive, you jerks. I even stood out there and talked to nobody for ten minutes like a normal person.”

Josh’s parents didn’t listen to him at all. Instead, Mrs. Washington pulled him down and planted a definitively mocking kiss on his cheek. “And the effort is appreciated, Josh,” she said, unable to sound as sincere as she probably intended. They were all making fun of him.

“Ugh, Mom, please,” Josh protested, ducking away before she could do any additional mom-ish damage to his ego. Escaping to the other side of the car, Josh narrowed his eyes and pointed a threatening finger in their general direction. “This is absolutely the last time I try to be nice. Next time I want to pay my respects, I’m going to call the Ghost Busters and you two are footing the bill.”

Even though he knew he was being made fun of, Josh felt a little better. Maybe paying the grief debt of a person who leaves you isn’t impossible. You make a payment plan, you chip away at it, and one day you wake up and it’s under your control. Maybe. Or maybe he was just feeling sentimental. But it sure helps when you have a couple of rich parents willing to share the bills.

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they had finally gotten home and his parents had sufficiently destroyed his pride, Josh bolted upstairs to avoid further parental antics. Yeah, caring was nice and all but they were super embarrassing. Ugh.

Before he even reached his room he could hear his phone ringing where he had accidentally left it on his desk. People were just going to have to get used to the fact that Josh Washington was irresponsible and not to be trusted with a telephone. Part of him wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard it ringing. He could just turn back around and head downstairs. His options included a phone conversation or his parents. This was not an easy choice.

It seemed prudent to check who was calling at least before making such an important decision, so Josh eased his door open and grabbed his phone. **Unknown4** was lit up on his screen. Sam was great and all, but he was still waiting for her to destroy him. She _said_ she had forgiven him for freaking out at her, but Josh really couldn’t understand why. She didn’t have to. Everytime he tried to imagine that scene in his kitchen from Sam’s point of view it felt like an enormous betrayal, no matter how messed up his dumb brain had been. At the very least, though, he owed her enough to answer the damn phone.

“Washington’s pawn shop, you steal it we deal it, what can I do for ya?”

“Clever.”

“I’ve been saving that one, you should be honored.”

“I’ll work on that. I’ve called you like twelve times where the hell were you?”

“I’m a busy guy, Sammy.”

“That’s not remotely true. You forgot didn’t you? I knew you’d forget.”

“I’ve never forgotten anything in my entire life. Especially this thing you’ve accused me of forgetting that I have to wait for further elaboration on to reference accurately. So no. I didn’t forget whatever it is you’re talking about.”

“Oh my god, Josh.”

“Are you going to give me a hint or am I going to have to bullshit this all on my own?”

“I definitely don’t have that long. Just put on clothes, I’m coming to pick you up.”

“For _what_?”

“Last week when you got out of the hospital you said you’d get Chris on board and the both of you would help my mom put on that banquet for the seniors at her work. Jesus, you didn’t even ask Chris, did you? My mom really needs extra hands tonight.”

“I asked him. Of course I asked him.” (No he hadn’t. Shit.)

“I’m going to go ahead and believe you against my best judgment. Just wear something not terrible or offensive to old people and be ready in twenty minutes. We’ll go pick up Chris afterwards.”

And then she hung up on him. So rude. Justified, but rude.

Josh could vaguely recall a conversation in the hospital parking lot where Sam had asked him to volunteer his time at the retirement home where Sam’s mom worked. In his defense, she had asked him days after he had received a whopping concussion. A reminder before the day in question would have been courteous, but Sam hadn’t even begun to run out of favors owed to her by Josh, so whatever.

Throwing on something “not terrible”, he tried to imagine what kind of offensive clothing Sam thought me might wear to a retirement home. Did she think he’d show up in jeans and a shirt declaring “FUCK JESUS” proudly across the front? She had no faith in him whatsoever. But if he had owned a “fuck jesus” shirt, you can bet that Josh would’ve worn it out to Sam’s car just for her reaction alone. Sam was just too easy. And honestly, it kind of turned him on a little when he thought she was about to kick his ass. She could _never_ know that, though.

Alas, he didn’t own any truly offensive shirts, so he put on something that would hopefully pass semi-decent standards. Josh didn’t really know much about old people. His own grandparents had never been in his life, having died or lived far away for the most part. Once an old lady had told him he needed a haircut while he was standing in line at the deli. That pretty much covered his interaction with old people.

Now how was he going to con Chris into helping? This was way too last minute to ask nicely. No, he had to be a little more devious than that.

 

 

 

> **_Josh:_ ** _dude put clothes on im gonna come over to your house in like 20 min_
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _wtf why_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _you don’t want to see me??? the single greatest bro in your life?????_
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _more like the single greatest shut-in in my life_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _god, nevermind then_
> 
> **_Unknown5:_ ** _fine fine this better be worth it tho_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _oh it is dude trust me_

 

No it wasn’t. Chris was as easy as Sam.

 

Did he feel bad? Nobody can prove he didn’t. Did he have the luxury of feeling bad? Not particularly. Chris could just deal with it. At least Chris had grandparents and knew how to interact with old people. He thought they were interesting or whatever - something about “life experience”.

Josh’s outfit ended up passing Sam’s judgment, which was actually kind of disappointing. Her car was stuffed with random shit for the banquet and Josh worried that they might not even have enough room for Chris. If they moved some of the boxes, though, they could fit him in the middle. Chris was a little bigger than Josh, so technically Josh should’ve volunteered for the bitch seat, but the very fact that they casually referred to it as “the bitch seat” was enough for him to keep quiet.

Chris took the revelation a little better than Josh had anticipated and he felt just a bit guilty for not being honest. In fact, Chris had been making lunch when they got to his house and made them all lunch too. Chris was just the worst – couldn’t even be pissed off properly. He didn’t even rat Josh out for not having asked him in advance to come to the banquet. Rather, Chris just played it off like he knew about his non-existent commitment the whole time. Josh was not looking forward to whatever he was going to have to do to pay Chris back.

The banquet hall was actually pretty nice. Josh couldn’t really appreciate it through the haze of carrying approximately one million boxes from Sam and her mothers’ cars to the distant location, but it caught up with him eventually. The retirement home was _way_ nicer than what he imagined and he felt a little underdressed. Whenever Josh tried to imagine a retirement home he just kind of pictured a prison with weird paintings of Jesus on the walls and all the prisoners had crocheted shawls around their shoulders. This place was alright, though.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Sam mused, hefting the last of the boxes onto one of the folding tables.

“That’s because you’re always out swimming with dolphins or hiking through Narnia or something,” Sam’s mom griped. She was swinging dangerously from a rickety ladder while she haphazardly slapped streamers on everything in sight.

Josh grinned. Oh, yeah, he could see where Sam got it from. He grabbed the legs of the ladder she was perched on to stabilize it before something bad happened. Sam’s mother smiled down at him and flashed him an a-okay sign before resuming her hideous decorating. “I haven’t seen you in a long time, Josh,” she called down. A streamer fell across Josh’s head and he shook it off.

“Didn’t Sam tell you? I’ve joined a traveling bluegrass band. I’ve been living on the run for years now,” he returned. That felt like a better line than some wisecrack about going nuts. Clearly Sam’s mother wasn’t really in the loop about Blackwood Mountain. It wasn’t that surprising, though, considering how little Sam liked to talk about her feelings. She’d probably managed to convince her mom that the trip had been boring and uneventful.

Sam was giving him a disapproving look from where she was unsuccessfully trying to attach chair legs to a table and Josh gave her a little wave. Sam’s mother just nodded distractedly. “That’s nice, dear.”

Josh clung to the swaying ladder while Sam figured out that she was trying to assemble a chair-table hybrid. She then proceeded to screw the front and back chair legs on opposite sides of the seat, creating some entirely new monster of furniture. When she’d realized her mistake, she threw the crumpled directions angrily to the floor and kicked the chair mutant over, muttering weirdly censored obscenities to herself. When she caught him staring, she gestured at the chair like it was all the chair’s fault. He just shrugged apologetically, both for her chair troubles and accidentally falling in love with her a little more. Oops.

Eventually Sam’s mother finished swinging around the ceiling and Josh joined Sam to help put the furniture together. He was having way too much fun handing her the wrong parts, though, so Chris banished them both to the refreshment table so he could unbuild the monstrosities they had created. Chris was basically the only useful one there, having just finished setting up the sound system and confirming the catering delivery. This was exactly why Chris was a successful nerd while Sam and Josh were broke, unemployed, and out of school. Josh pointed this out to Sam while they were trying not to fuck up the punch mix and she laughed.

“Alright, well, I’m just taking a break from school. My therapist told me I couldn’t outrun my problems and I kind of wanted to prove her wrong.”

“You _do_ enjoy proving people wrong,” Josh said, nodding sagely. Sam bumped his elbow and he dumped way too much ice into the punch bowl, sloshing it all over the clean tablecloth. “You did that on purpose!”

“I did not!” She protested, scooping up handfuls of ice from the table top and dropping it into the overflowing punch bowl. “Er, there, good as new.”

“Oh my god I can’t believe you just put your hands all over the that ice.” He slapped her hands away and tried relieving the overfull punch bowl by scooping some of it’s contents out with a cup and dumping it in the trash can.

Sam grabbed his arm and stopped him from repeating the motion. “Okay, so your solution is to put liquid in the trash? Were you raised in a barn?”

Chris was walking menacingly towards them and Josh glared down at her. “Great. We’re about to be fired from punch duty too.”

They were.

The only thing left for them to fuck up was nametag cutting, so they were excommunicated to a corner table while Chris and Sam’s mother bonded over being useful human beings. “Good thing I brought Chris,” Josh said, folding the namecard Sam had just handed him. “You and I, though? We’re suited only for menial, repetitive prison labor.”

“We should go on strike,” she muttered, cutting out her millionth nametag.

Josh snorted. “I’m pretty sure that’s what they want us to do. You can’t negotiate fair labor when you have nothing to offer, Sammy.” She was too busy simmering to respond, so Josh continued folding the placards in silence.

The residents began filing in a few hours later, dressed up in their best old people clothes. Josh still wasn’t really sure how to act around senior citizens, so he just stayed quietly at the corner table while Sam and her mom socialized with the early arrivals. Chris was fiddling with the sound system, making his final adjustments for the evening. Even though he wasn’t strictly comfortable around the elderly, Josh had to admit that some of them were pretty cute. Sam had been hugged about a billion times and called beautiful about two billion times. Even Chris had been cornered by a shriveled man in a bowtie and was rubbing the back of his head the way he always did when someone gave him a compliment.

Over the course of half an hour a surprisingly large amount of people had gathered in the banquet hall. Chris had started the music, which was predictably out-dated and cheesy, but kind of endearing. Shortly thereafter, though, Chris had been dragged out for a dance with a woman half his height. Josh laughed to himself and watched Chris fail to learn how to waltz.

The catering arrived an hour into the event and Josh decided to venture bravely forth to seek out some food. He managed to get to the table, retrieve food and make it halfway back to his corner before an old woman with powder white hair and bright red lipstick waved him over. Rats, foiled again.

“Oh, you must be one of Samantha’s friends,” she said sweetly. “Roger, pull that chair out for the young man.”

Roger, a bent man with spectacles thicker than aquarium glass and a toothless smile, pulled a chair out for him and Josh had no choice but to accept the gesture. “Uh, thanks,” he managed, plopping down beside Roger and his wife.

“Did you help set this all up?” Roger asked, shouting above the din of his hearing aid.

Roger’s wife laughed and placed on hand on her husband’s arm. “Roger, dear, you’re shouting.”

“I’m what?!”

“Oh nevermind. Don’t mind him,” she said, turning back to Josh. “I’m Ruth and that’s my husband, Roger. Thank you for setting this all up, it’s just lovely.” She smiled kindly at him and Josh tried to look less awkward.

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you. I’m Josh. I owe Sam a bunch of favors, so it’s not a big deal,” he said, staring down at his plate. “And honestly I kept messing things up, so I’m not really sure how much I contributed here. But you’re welcome for what I didn’t mess up.”

Roger cackled and slapped the table lightly. “This one’s sharp, I like him. And a man who knows his debts, too.”

“And so handsome,” Ruth added, patting Josh’s arm.

Oh, geez. Josh laughed nervously and nearly upset a glass of water all over the table. “Er, thanks. I’m even house-trained.”

“Me too!” Roger shouted, flashing Josh a toothless grin. “Or at least I used to be!” He roared, wheezing out a laugh at his own joke.

When Josh laughed that time, it was genuine. Old people were pretty neat, he decided. There was something magical about hitting a point in your life when you gave zero fucks about what other people thought of you. “I have so much to look forward to in my old age,” he joked, pushing the water glass he had nearly knocked over a little further towards the center of the table.

“So, are you in school Josh?” Ruth asked, smoothing a napkin over Roger’s lap.

It probably would have been easier to lie and provide easily digestible answers to them, but Josh figured they had some kind of secret old-person lie detection abilities. “Nope. I’m kind of sick right now, so I’m working through that. If I can get past it, though, I think I’d like to help make movies someday.”

“Movies?!” Roger nearly knocked his plate off the table, but Ruth caught it expertly like she was used to it. “I love movies!”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely,” Ruth agreed, holding Roger’s plate steady. “I’m sorry that you can’t pursue it now, but I hope you don’t lose that dream. It’s easy to abandon our dreams when they don’t pan out as quickly as we want them to,” she said sadly.

Josh stirred the food around his plate. “Yeah, a lot has gone pretty wrong for me these last few years,” he found himself admitting. There was something comforting about Roger and Ruth and what the hell, he wasn’t ever going to see them again anyways. “Things feel pretty impossible most days, you know?”

Ruth nodded sympathetically. “When Roger lost his leg in the war, we weren’t sure how we were going to get by. One day at a time, dear.”

“We didn’t have a leg to stand on!” Roger added, scattering peas across the table when he gestured dramatically with his fork. “But you’ve got two legs, dontcha, son?” He asked suspiciously.

“Two legs and two arms,” Josh assured him. “Kind of a bum brain, though.”

Roger flung some more peas across the table and Ruth began patiently retrieving them. “Me too! You wanna know the secret to it, though?”

Josh shrugged and leaned closer. “Sure.”

“The secret is to find a couple of people who don’t give a damn about your bum brain and keep ‘em close. To hell with the rest of ‘em. Your world don’t gotta include anyone you don’t want in it, and that’s a fact, son,” he finished, dropping his fork into his lap.

Roger was nodding encouragingly at him and Josh found himself mirroring the man's satisfied smile. Not bad advice. “You’re a smart guy, Roger,” he said, staring out across the dance floor. Sam was getting her feet stepped on by a blind man who looked like he was having the time of his life. He said something to her and she laughed.

“Don’t encourage him,” Ruth chuckled, placing Roger’s fork back on his plate. “But Roger knows what he’s talking about most of the time. Your friends are very sweet, dear. Keep them close.”

“Hell, marry one of ‘em too. That’s what I did,” Roger declared proudly. “Go marry Samantha, she’s pretty. Or go marry that young man playing the music, I don’t care. Marry both. It’s a brave new world out there,” he shrugged, digging into his wayward peas.

Marry Sam? That would be weird. Marry Chris? Equally weird. “Sam would never marry me,” he laughed, watching Sam try to teach Chris how to waltz. She wasn’t having much luck either.

“You’d be surprised who you end up with, dear,” Ruth laughed, watching Roger chase food around his plate. “Just find someone you like being around. You already know who’s important to you.”

“What if the people important to you deserve better?”

Roger snorted into his food. “What’s better than being important to someone? Don’t sell yourself short, son. I’m blind as a bat and even I can see that those two kids have done nothing but stare at you all night. At least try to look like you’re having fun so they can stop worrying, will ya?”

Josh was surprised to find that he didn’t really have to pretend. The music was outdated and the decorations were terrible and the punch was definitely fucked up, but things were okay. Old people were pretty smart. Roger told a few ridiculously tall tales about his time in the navy while Ruth expertly guided him through the meal.

When they had finished their food, Ruth dragged Josh to the dance floor with Roger’s encouragement. He was in a good mood and unable to come up with an effective protest, so he found himself twirling Ruth around to some big band anthem while Sam gave him a smug look over the shoulder of a portly bearded fellow. Ruth tired out eventually and passed him on to Roger who turned out to be surprisingly agile, despite missing a leg and being a little on the senile side.

“I like you, kid. Consider yourself adopted!” Roger laughed over the music, pulling Josh along to his tempo. “Keep that in mind before you get too mad at your new grandparents,” he added before expertly whisking Sam away from her bearded dance partner and slinging her right into Josh’s arms.

“Well hello there,” Josh laughed, pulling her a little closer than he intended. Goddamn interfering adopted grandparents. Roger flashed him a thumbs up from where he was now dancing with a very confused bearded man.

Sam seemed a little disoriented by the switch, but adapted quickly enough. “It looks like you’ve been adopted by the Bernards,” she observed, eyes following Roger as he drifted back towards his wife.

“What can I say, they’re very charming. And super rich I hope.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t abandon him. “You already have rich parents, Josh. Leave some rich adopted grandparents for the rest of us, would you?”

Josh gaped at her. “My parents are _rich_?! When were you going to tell me?”

The music faded out into a slower song that even Josh recognized and he sighed, adjusting their rhythm slightly. “Ugh, this song is so cheesy,” he lamented.

“Oh, please, you love it,” she returned, pulling him a little closer. Too close. Oh, dear.

He gulped. “Um, sources?”

“Sources? Josh, you can’t watch Steel Magnolias without crying at the end and you have every single one of Ben E. King’s records hidden in your room.”

You know, that was fair.

“Okay, fine. I love this song. Fuck you.”

Sam smiled deviously and squeezed his hand. “When are you going to realize that I’m always right?”

Trick question. Josh had pretty much always known that Sam was always right. “When I stop being wrong all the time, I guess.” Josh glanced over Sam’s head and Ruth winked at him. No. Stop that. “So, the Bernards told me to marry you already,” he blurted out. Smooth.

Sam stumbled slightly, but played it off like a pro. One of these days he would manage to sufficiently fluster her. “Is that a proposal?” She snickered.

Josh couldn’t really look her in the eyes, so he scanned the dance floor, watching old people be stupidly cute with each other. “Well, Sammy, you _do_ make me feel young again.” Sam laughed at him and it went straight through his stomach.

“Maybe marrying rich isn’t a bad idea,” she mused. Her thumb was rubbing absently on the side of his hand and he tried to focus on something else.

“Oh, shucks. Well I’m fucking broke, so never mind then. But if you marry me you can at least get a last name out of the deal.”

Sam gave him an odd look. “What’s that supposed to mean? I already have a last name. You’re just terrible at remembering things and I’m offended.”

“Oh, really? What’s your last name, then?”

“Figure it out yourself, asshole.”

Goddamnit. Foiled again.

“Fine,” he muttered, shifting his hand slightly on her side. “We can’t get married anyways, because the old people would be scandalized. You’ve already kissed me and ruined everything, you harlot.”

“Whoops. My bad,” she said unapologetically. “Guess we can just be fuck-buddies and descend slowly into hell together, if you’d rather.”

Josh choked on his own spit and stumbled awkwardly, nearly knocking the both of them over. Why did it always feel like he was being made fun of? Why did he always lose these conversations? “Why must you treat me this way,” he coughed, righting his feet and pulling her closer. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Yeah, but it’s really fun,” she whispered close to his ear and goddamnit she knew exactly what she was doing. Everyone was making fun of him. Sam was stupidly pretty and knew just how to push his buttons and he was just some poor, lost soul with an inability to be sincere for four goddamn seconds. Both of them were, honestly.

“Fine, Sammy, but just know that someday I’m going to sweep you off your feet and you’re going to have to come to terms with your own insincere flattery. Imagine how dumb you'll look when I confess my love for you and you've been nothing but a jerk to me. So there,” he added childishly. When he looked down he fully expected Sam to be rolling her eyes, but she was giving him some kind of look. Josh wasn’t really sure how to classify that look, but anything he was going to say to her fell flat on his tongue. _Kiss her, you idiot_ , his brain screamed. Or maybe that was just Roger.

“Get a room you two,” Chris chided, brushing past the two of them, his arms full of empty boxes.

Josh snapped back to reality and he blinked in the headlights of Sam's thousand-yard stare. Sam seemed…dare he say it: flustered? Hah, score one for Josh. The song had just ended and he released Sam to collect herself. “I think Chris is jealous,” he said.

She shook her head as if trying to rid herself of whatever had just happened between them. “Of you or of me?”

Josh scoffed. “Oh, please, definitely of you. Excuse me, Sam, but I’m duty bound to spread the joy of my company,” he apologized, turning to grab Chris by the elbow before he could escape. While the next song rolled to a slow start, Josh pulled the boxes from a protesting Chris’s hands and dragged him along to a particularly romantic waltz. Roger whistled from the sideline and Chris turned delightfully red.

“Bro, this is our song,” Josh laughed, twirling Chris rather ungracefully. “I don’t know, dude, I think I might be falling in love with you.”

“I’m going to murder you.”

Josh frowned. “Don’t break my heart like this, bro.”

Chris relented and allowed Josh to pull him along in a slow, badly choreographed waltz. “Fine. But only because we’re both so handsome together. And only because I feel bad for you for blowing it with Sam for the thousandth time. Seriously, dude, you need to be a little more receptive to the 'for the love of god would you kiss me already' look.”

“Is that the one you're giving me right now?" Josh teased.

"Absolutely not."

Josh snapped his fingers as if just remembering something. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, but my new adopted grandparents think we should get married pronto. How about it?”

“Don’t push it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unresolved tension: the series.
> 
> there is no doubt in my mind that [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEH3uqbpsm8) was the song josh and sam talked through. not josh and chris, tho, no they were probably on [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fy_JRGjc1To) song lmao 10/10 god bless 'em. i love old people music.
> 
> dedicating this chapter to my asshole siblings back in chicago (who i begrudgingly miss) and the old folks at the retirement home i used to work at. cheers to you all.
> 
> anyways this story has gotten so long and idk where it's gonna end up but whatever. have a beautiful saturday, friends.


	13. some things you just can't explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and others you figure out how to anyways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've done my best here folks and if it feels raw it's because i've never polished anything in my life. it's just who i am.

By the end of the night, Josh had been adopted by four elderly couples, kissed on the cheek five times by white-haired women, and listened to the same story about Roger losing his leg eight times. Admittedly, that story got better each time Josh heard it. Before Ruth and Roger had departed for the night they had made Josh swear to come back and visit them. He was officially invited to bingo night on Tuesdays and Josh was absolutely godawful at bingo, but he knew he would end up going anyways. Hopefully old people didn’t play high stakes bingo, because Josh had no money and no talent. Maybe they would just play strip bingo. Was that a thing? It should be.

A bunch of the residents ended up falling asleep in chairs during the course of the night and Josh ended up on alarm clock duty. Waking people up is dangerous at the best of times when you look like the grim fucking reaper, but Josh managed to only get decked once. The bearded man who had danced with Sam before she was stolen away had jumped so bad when Josh tried waking him up, that he’d slung an expert right hook right into Josh’s liver. Though profusely apologetic, the bearded man had at least managed to avoid Josh’s bruised brain, so Josh didn’t hold it against him. If he had to see his own face first thing upon waking up, Josh might freak out too.

“Oi, Sandman, is everyone gone yet?” Sam called from across the banquet hall. She was holding the ladder steady while her mom ripped streamers from the wall with little consideration for her own safety. Sam herself was strong, but fairly slight and Josh internally questioned just how much Sam’s presence was improving her mother’s chances of survival. Probably not much was his guess.

“Everyone’s gone,” he confirmed, sweeping an armful of unsorted trash into one of the bags he’d been given. “And I only got punched once.”

Sam turned from the ladder to look at him, but was forced to whip back around when it nearly teetered off kilter. “Josh would you _please_ recycle?” She chastised, clinging helplessly to the ladder.

“Sammy, you can tell me _what_ to do or _how_ to do it. Not both.” Proving his dedication to this philosophy, Josh swept another armful of plastic cups into the trash bag and pulled it closed pointedly. “This is exactly why we can never get married. Chris is just a better option for me. Sorry.”

“That’s never happening,” Chris said brusquely, throwing a large spool of plugs and cords over his shoulder. "I'm not affiliated with him." Why was Chris so afraid of loving him.

Sam’s mother dropped an armful of streamers directly on Sam’s head and scoffed. “Would you consider a bribe then? Jesus I have to find _some_ way to get rid of her,” her mom muttered, leaning casually off the precipice of a potentially fatal drop. “You have my blessings and my limited financial support.”

Josh laughed and scooped another handful of perfectly recyclable cups into a trash bag. “Oh, well if you’re going to _pay_ me then that changes things.” Sam was trying valiantly to extricate herself from the mass of discarded streamers around her head and shoulders, but her protests were still drowned out by colored paper. “How much are we talking here?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Sam’s mother pondered. “How much can I give you without setting feminism back more than a couple decades?”

Finally Sam managed to pull the bulk of the streamers from her head and shot Josh a venomous look. “You’re the one who has to pay _me_ for that to happen. And trust me, buddy, you can’t afford me.”

“That would be a lot more of an insult if I could afford anything more than a Happy Meal at McDonald’s,” Josh returned, hefting the bag of garbage over his shoulder. “Ho ho ho, merry Trash Christmas,” he wheezed, begging his weak arms to be a little more impressive and functional.

The cleanup took way longer than the setup mostly because Chris abandoned them halfway through. It’s a lot more difficult to keep the team going when the MVP ditches. Ashley picked up their MVP, though, and Sam’s mother got called away to deal with a medication mix-up on the third floor. The total sum of Sam and Josh’s productivity probably netted a negative production value. It had gotten late, though, and the two of them managed to pool enough collective motivation to finish the job. The worst part of it all was that the millions of boxes they had carried into the banquet hall had to be carried out again with only half the team still present.

“Sam, I’m dying,” he whined, setting what felt like the billionth box on the curb of the front entrance. It had gotten cold out and Josh pulled his rolled up jacket sleeves back down to ward off the chill. “I’m too delicate for a life of hard labor.”

Sam dropped a box labeled “FRAGILE” unceremoniously on the ground and something inside it sounded awfully broke. She paid it no mind. “You’re like, twice my size. Quit your whining.”

Josh gestured at Sam’s general self. “Okay, but you like… _do_ things. I’m a skeleton, remember? A delicate skeleton. My bones are shattering, Sammy,” he lamented, draping himself dramatically over a stack of boxes.

“You’re absolutely useless to me, Josh Washington,” Sam said coldly, leaning against another stack of boxes, towering up to nearly her height. “I wish _you_ could’ve gone on a date with Ashley and I could’ve kept Chris.”

Josh lifted his head from where he was draped and narrowed his eyes through the darkness at her. “Oh, please, they aren’t on a date. They’re probably pretending that they just happened to end up at the same place at the same time.” Josh adjusted his voice to a goofy, completely inaccurate imitation of Chris’s voice. “Ashley? Fancy seeing you here in this car that belongs to you on the way to a movie we definitely didn’t have plans to see together. Darn accidental dating.” Next he adjusted his voice to an obnoxious falsetto that was even less accurate to Ashley. “Oh gee, I hope we don’t end up accidentally kissing wouldn’t that be weird, Chris? Haha, what a coincidence.”

Sam was trying her best to look unamused but it wasn’t working. “Okay, your impressions need a lot of work, but I’m going to set that aside for now. You do realize that they’re like _actually_ dating now, don’t you?”

Josh’s voice dropped back to his own range and he gave her a suspicious look. “I don’t believe you. Chris would’ve told me.”

Sam snorted and pulled out her phone, the light from it illuminating a less than convinced look. “And how do you imagine that conversation would go? Chris is way too awkward. He’s probably been trying to think of a way to slip it casually into conversation for weeks.” Sam dropped her voice down to an equally bad impersonation of Chris. “Hey Josh have you seen that director’s cut commentary for Inception yet? Yeah I heard it’s real great also I’m dating Ashley now. Anyways, how ‘bout that Bulls game last night?”

Josh threw his head back and laughed, clapping his hands at her impression. “My impressions are bad? Oh my god, that was _terrible_.” Sam threw a roll of streamers at him and it hit him in the stomach with a surprising punch. He winced and rubbed at his poor stomach, but continued laughing. “However, I will concede that you might be right. And not because you’re smarter than me, but because Chris is definitely awkward enough for that to be true. But I will not concede that your impressions are better than mine.”

“I’m definitely smarter than you, but that’s a conversation for another day. And they’re totally dating,” Sam concluded, nodding confidently.

Josh underhanded the streamers back at Sam and she caught them smoothly before depositing them back in one of the hundreds of boxes. “Fine. They’re dating and Chris is awkward and I’m an idiot.” They fell into silence for a few moments, resting their aching muscles while Sam scrolled through her phone and Josh stared at her. “Good for them, I guess. Even the most helpless of us can prevail,” he added quietly.

“Oh, not all of us,” Sam muttered, eyes still glued to her phone screen.

Josh couldn’t tell if her comment was more self-deprecating or accusatory. Either way, it wasn’t entirely uncalled for. “Whatever do you mean?” He asked innocently. She opened that can of worms up and it was her responsibility to deal with it, he decided.

Looking up from her phone screen, Sam gave him a calculating look and he kind of regretted dissecting her offhand remark. “You’re a hard one to figure, Josh,” she said slowly.

“Only if you try too hard. I’m an idiot Sam and I’m 100 percent positive that whatever conclusions you’ve drawn about me are accurate. If it seems like I’m scared, well hell, you’re the expert. I probably am,” he mused, fiddling with a box of matches from the top crate. He lit one up and watched it burn down slowly before dropping it to the sidewalk and lighting another.

After a few moments of burning matches and silence, Sam laughed lightly and tucked her phone back in her pocket. “If you say so, Josh. I’ll just wait around forever then, shall I?”

“If you don’t mind. For the life of me I can’t figure out why you’d choose me.” He smiled at the low-burning match between his fingers while Sam pushed off from the stack of boxes she was leaning on and joined him at his stack. They remained in companionable silence while he burned through the last of the matches, both of them watching the slow life and death cycle with each successive snap and flare.

“Is that a question?” Sam asked, an amused lilt running smooth through her tone.

Josh shook his head and shrugged. “Not really. I’ve never been able to explain myself, so why should I expect it of you? Well, that and I’m too grateful to even care why.” He inhaled deeply, the frigid air and scent of sulfur curling bracingly in his lungs. “If you don’t mind a few factory defects then who am I to question it? Fair warning, though: these defects absolutely effect operation. But you already knew that I guess.”

In the moments before Josh lit the last match, Sam gave him a sad look and finally asked what nobody else wanted to know. “What’s it like?”

 Finally, finally finally. She didn’t even have to specify what she was asking about. Sam was as good as Josh when it came to not talking about elephants in the room, no matter how big or ridiculous or strange. She’d been so infuriatingly patient, stumbling around in the dark, as if dealing with someone in Josh’s shoes was normal. Honestly, the terror of having to answer that question had faded into impatience in the last few weeks. And disbelief. Didn’t anybody want to know what it was like? Didn’t anybody wonder how he could fade in and out of life like a flickering match; intangible, brief, and burnt out too quickly? Were they too scared to ask? Or was it something too awful to want to understand - like how two girls could disappear in the mountains and nobody could save them? Like how they had hardly even _tried_ to save them? If people didn’t ask him, though, it felt far from a kindness, despite their intentions. No, he had come to realize that he was _starved_ for understanding.

What was being crazy like?

Well, it was…crazy. It was just nuts.

For the amount of time Josh had been given to come up with a half-decent answer to that question, he hadn’t done a very good job of preparing. He hummed in thought and paused without lighting the last match.

“Hard to explain,” he admitted with a casualness that surprised him. Rolling the match between his fingers rhythmically, Josh glanced upwards at the ocean of stars crashing around him in an ebb and flow of things he could never understand or explain. “It’s never just one thing,” he said slowly. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him, but continued watching the stars crash around above his head in a quiet swell. “Sometimes…it’s ridiculous and a little funny. How can things be so strange and dysfunctional? Sometimes it’s emptiness and nothing at all, like you’ll never feel again or find what you’ve lost to yourself. Sometimes it’s too much; everything in the whole universe all at once kicking you into the dust. Sometimes it’s every tragedy your brain can possibly handle and them some. Sometimes it’s a terror so deep you think you’re bones are gonna crawl out of your skin. And other times it's like you're so goddamn lost and everyone's trying to give you a map but they're all just blank sheets of paper.” Finally, Josh lit the last match with a small snap and a hiss of sulfur. “And sometimes it’s normal and you wonder if it was ever real at all.”  Holding the match up against the backdrop of the ocean above them, he smiled tiredly at the flames, swooping and licking his fingers in the slight winter breeze. “It’s never just one thing,” he finished quietly. “But mostly, it’s exhausting.”

“That’s…a lot,” Sam admitted, shuffling closer until her shoulder touched his. “Does anything help? Or does it feel like you're on your own?”

The match was half burned down and Josh watched it slip closer and closer to his fingers. The night was thicker than grief, but strangely beautiful. Only the match in his fingers provided a spotlight to the comings and goings below the stars, but instead of anything grand it just lit up a couple of kids trying their best. When he breathed in again it felt like he had breathed in the stars, bright and beautiful and full of unexpected relief. It tickled at his lungs and he forced out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said lightly, leaning into her side and tapping the side of his shoe against hers. “Normal helps a bit. Watching movies with a giant nerd. Stew from the douchebag down the street. Football games and time alone with a pretty girl. Stuff like that,” he joked. The match reached his fingers and he released it with a small curse when it stung his skin. It fizzled out on the ground and he stuck his finger in his mouth to relieve the pain. “Just little reminders that there are real things that mean more than the imaginary things trying to kick my ass.”

Sam nodded and turned her attention back to the sky. “I don’t know how you do it. I’m perfectly fine. Yet it’s like I couldn’t even handle when-“ she cut off abruptly and winced.

Josh understood. “When Hannah and Beth disappeared? When they died?” He prompted. The last thing he wanted was for her to have to walk on eggshells around him. If they spilled it all right there on the sidewalk in front of a nursing home maybe they could let everything dragging their hearts down go freely out into the big sky above them. If they took care of it now, it could be gone or maybe just a bit smaller somehow. Just maybe they could…well, let it go or something. And if it walked off into the night with the last whole pieces of their hearts and nothing was left, hell at least they tried.

“Yeah. I’m not poetic and I can’t think that they’re in a better place or whatever, but I wish I could,” she admitted. “It would be nice. But the hardest part of these last few months has been coming to terms with the fact that horrible things happen for no reason to good people and there isn’t enough glue in the world to put back the pieces leftover. That’s even assuming there _are_ pieces leftover.”

Josh let out a humorless laugh and threw a friendly arm around Sam’s shoulders where they leaned against the tower of boxes, forgotten and chilled in the early winter night. She accepted and leaned into his side. “Oh, I think there are still some pieces left over. We can’t wait around for some big catharsis or grand plan to unveil itself to feel whole again, you know? Horrible things are horrible things and that’s just gonna have to be enough explanation. And because I know you, I’m gonna go ahead and suggest something you might not be used to hearing. It’s okay if you never get over it. Nobody’s waiting around for you to conquer Mount Grief, Sammy.”

“You sound like my therapist,” she muttered, stuffing her left hand in the pocket of Josh’s jacket for warmth. Sam shook her head and gestured helplessly with her free hand. “I guess it’s time to stop trying to outrun this shit, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess it probably is.” It didn’t _feel_ like they’d let everything go, but the overwhelming sense of pulling back on the reigns of some massive beast charging straight at himself had lessened slightly. And if Josh had learned anything it was that close enough was good enough. “Although, it has been an honor and a privilege being full of shit with you, Sam. Truly an honor.”

Flashing him an amused grin, Sam ducked out from under his arm and began stacking some of the discarded boxes. “The honor was definitely all yours,” she said slyly, fishing around in her pocket for her keys. When she had located them, she tossed her keys in his general direction and he scrambled to catch them.

“What’re these for?” He asked, barely snagging the keys before they clanged to the ground.

Sam began walking back towards the doors. “Go pull my car around. I’m going to get the last two boxes because you’re apparently, oh how did you put it…’ill suited for menial labor’? Something like that.”

“Wait, Sam don’t leave me!” He protested. “I’m not allowed to drive. I’m not even sure I remember _how_ to drive. This is extremely ill-advised.”

Heaving a mighty sigh, Sam turned around and began walking backwards, still inching towards the door. No, no she was going in the wrong direction. Damnit. “Josh, it’s like twenty feet. You can manage.”

Josh made to protest again, but she had already disappeared through the entryway, leaving him alone with her keys and a sense of dread. Mentally he went through the five stages of grief. Denial. This was ridiculous. Sam didn’t _actually_ expect him to drive her car. Right? Anger. Honestly, how _dare_ she? Josh had no business behind the wheel. Bargaining. Maybe he could make a deal with her? Maybe they could come to an agreement so he didn’t have to drive the car. Depression. Aw shit, this was terrible. Everything was terrible and he hated cars.

Acceptance. Fine. Fuck it, he’d drive the car. If he died, Sam was to blame.

Sitting behind the wheel of the car, though, presented a far more potent source of anxiety. Fuck. Josh pulled his phone out and hit **Unknown4** , tapping his foot nervously on the floor of the driver’s side.

“What?” Sam answered irritably.

“This is a bad idea.”

“I backed into the space, Josh. All you have to do is put it in drive, pull out of the parking spot, and swing it around to the curb. A child could do this. You’re over thinking it.”

“Sam, please. I’m gonna die.”

“Stop freaking out, Josh, this isn’t a big deal.”

“Sammy, _please_.”

“Drive the damn car, Josh, I’m almost outside.”

“Have mercy, Sam.”

“No. Hurry up already.”

“Sammy.”

“ _Drive_ , Josh!”

Josh shifted into a random gear, panicked, and slammed his foot too hard on the gas pedal. Instead of going forward, the car lurched backwards and a horrible crunching sound screeched through his eardrums.

Silence crackled on the other end of the receiver while Josh stared in horror at the wheel, knuckles white where they gripped it like a broken lifeline.

“What the fuck just happened.”

Josh gulped. “Well. I drove.”

“Did I just watch you back my car into a light pole?”

Across the parking lot, Josh spotted Sam by the stacks of boxes. He couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t really have to. Murder.

“Um, no?”

“Try again.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

Briefly, Josh considered trying to make a getaway in Sam’s car, but he would probably just end up smashing into another car and bursting into flames. Either way, he was dead meat. Sam hung up on him and was stalking towards the car. Josh flew out of the driver’s seat like it was on fire and began begging for his life before Sam had even reached him.

“Okay, let me make it clear that I opposed this and I knew it was going to end badly but you wouldn’t listen so technically we’re both at fault here,” he babbled. When she held up a hand for silence, he clapped his mouth shut.

“Less words, Josh.”

He nodded dumbly while Sam circled around the back of the car to assess the damage. She eyed it critically, but didn’t burst into tears or flames so that was a good sign. “You’re lucky my car is already a piece of shit,” she muttered.

“Er, I can pay for it?”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Can you?”

“Uh, yeah no probably not. I’ve got $4 right now.”

The damage wasn’t _that_ bad, in Josh’s humble opinion. Her bumper was a little warped and there was a large scuff of paint across it, but it didn’t affect operation at all. Sam stayed relatively quiet while she pulled her car around to the front. Josh was under strict orders to begin prying the bumper back out and scraping the paint transfer off while Sam loaded the boxes. When she had loaded the car, she came around the back and evaluated Josh’s progress. It wasn’t very good.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” she whispered threateningly.

“Haha, really? Score.” He dusted his pants off and stood back to admire his terrible work. Wait, what did she just say? Hold the phone. “What was that?”

Sam just shook her head and departed for the driver’s side. “You age me horribly.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sometime during a story that Josh wasn’t actually paying attention to on the drive home, Sam dropped Emily’s name and it gave him pause. Sure, it was late and he was exhausted, but some weird impulsive part of his brain was clicking away, dredging up strange ideas.

“I need to see Emily,” he blurted out, stomping all over whatever story Sam had been telling. “I gotta thank her.”

“What, right now?” Sam asked, shooting him a confused look. “It’s nearly midnight.”

Shaking his head, Josh turned from the window he had been staring out of to look at her. “I’ve gotta do this. It’s been bugging me for days. I don’t know why she stuck her neck out for me like she did, but I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

Sam looked conflicted, but not completely against his request. “Honestly, she’ll probably call the police on you, Josh. It’s a little weird just showing up at her front door. What are you going to say?”

“I have no idea,” he said proudly. “None whatsoever. But I’m doing it with a positive attitude!”

“You’re not selling me here,” she muttered, but Josh noted triumphantly that she had altered their course slightly away from Josh’s side of town. He had been to enough of Emily’s parties in the past to know that they were heading in her general direction. “Emily’s probably not going to be happy to see you. You know that right?”

“Well, then she shouldn’t have saved my ass last week.” He gestured vaguely and returned to staring out the window. “I just have to do this. If she wants to kill me, she can kill me _after_ I thank her.” Outside the trees zipped past into the darkness, whisked away down a lonely road and a lonelier telephone line, stretching across the expanse of nothingness. He had always wondered why telephone lines needed to be in the middle of nowhere. Who was trying to reach these people living as far from everything as they can manage?

Tapping her finger on the steering wheel, Sam was thinking so loudly Josh resisted the urge to cover his ears. “You know,” she began slowly, “I once jokingly asked Matt what he saw in Emily. I love her, but she’s no gentle summer breeze if you follow me.” Josh looked away from the passing telephone poles and turned toward her again, nodding for her to continue. “You know what he said to me?”

“That she has a killer in-ground pool?”

The withering look was almost worth it. “Josh, I’m serious.”

“Fine, what did he say?”

Sam ceased her tapping and adopted a thoughtful look. “He said that even though Emily’s more abrasive than a belt sander, she’s also the realest person he’s ever known and the hardest working friend in the universe.”

Josh nodded in understanding. “Well, she _is_ a bit of an overachiever.”

“No, no. She’s thankless, Josh. Emily won’t _tell_ you she’s there for you. She’ll just _be_ there for you.” Sam smiled at some distant thought that she wouldn’t share and she laughed a bit to herself. “Emily’s problem is that she sees no point in offering the people she cares about meaningless gestures and company. But that’s also what makes her great. She won’t hold your hand when you’re scared of the dark, but she’ll damn well torch an entire city to get rid of it.”

“Or she won’t offer meaningless forgiveness for a cruel prank, but she’ll put your life back together when you drive it off a cliff,” Josh added. “I think I get it.”

“Exactly,” Sam concluded, pulling off the lonely highway onto a stretch of homes that looked straight out of Beverly Hills. As a fellow rich son of a bitch, Josh knew they were getting close. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. She’s probably still going to kick your ass for this unexpected visit.”

“But only because she cares.”

“Only because she cares.”

The mini-mansions rolled by one by one and Josh had to drag himself from his high horse. Hell, he was a rich asshole too. But the high horse was comfortable and he enjoyed how tall it made him feel. It was with a heavy heart that he dismounted. They might’ve been in a neighborhood full of assholes, but Josh was no better. Emily’s house eventually popped up on the horizon and Josh swallowed the fear punching out his ribs. Impulsive decisions, no matter how perilous, are best followed out to the bitter end. Except for the ones that aren’t. Hmmm.

“This feels like a bad idea,” Sam said, putting her car in park on the street in front of Emily’s house.

“Yes. Yes it does,” he agreed, unbuckling his seatbelt. Some decisions just have to be driven off a cliff. It’s inevitable. “Shall we?”

Sam snorted. “Are you nuts? You’re on your own, dude. I value my life.”

“Suit yourself,” Josh muttered, pushing his door open and climbing out into the frigid night air. Those late autumn temperatures were a bitch. He pulled his jacket a little tighter around his body and glanced behind him. Sam gave him an encouraging thumbs up that read a lot like a friendly eulogy. He was gonna die.

Josh took small steps up to Emily’s front door, subconsciously prolonging whatever horrible, violent encounter was about to occur. At least Josh was used to things not ending well for him. This _felt_ like it usually did. Whatever.

Before he could stop himself, Josh rushed the last few yards to her door and pressed the doorbell. It was out of his hands. His dumb decision was Emily’s problem now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i like this chapter.
> 
> its funny to me that there's like, a handful of you who always comments and provide feedback (and i love u guys), but there's a ton more bookmarks and kudos than just those people and i always wonder about this silent majority. do you like this story?? do you wish i would end it already?? are u robots?? haha u guys are mysteries and i love it. god bless ya silent readers god bless ya.
> 
> you ever heard [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXTVDUYIZs8) song? it's pretty good.
> 
> anyways, as promised we're finally getting to emily next chapter so stay tuned. maybe 2 or three more chapters? cheers, friends.


	14. bad ideas are practically currency around here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or rather, if they were, then josh washington would be rich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i try not to think too hard i just write. carelessness is my brand.
> 
> in other news: this chapter got way too long but i couldn't break it up so enjoy this larger pile of garbage than usual

 

Josh was an expert in the matter, so the answer was no. No, he was not surprised that things could go so horrifically bad in a minute time span. And no, he was not surprised that his hands were cuffed tightly behind his back while he sat in an uncomfortable metal chair in a bleak room at the police station. These were things that were not surprising and not even that disappointing in the grand scheme of his life. Yeah, his nose itched a little and his left shoe was untied but he was okay with it. Josh had been almost eagerly anticipating the day when ridiculous shit like this didn’t bother him any more and finally he had hit that threshold. Finally, Josh Washington was content with the spiral of idiocracy his life had descended into. Finally, something as categorically disastrous as being arrested had become just another day. Just another day for Josh Washington.

He tried unsuccessfully to scratch his nose against his shoulder, but his hands were pulled too far behind his back to reach. Damnit. Josh glared at his left shoe and willed it to tie itself. It didn’t.

The fluorescent lights overhead bored into his eye sockets like a parasite. If anyone else had been in the room with him, Josh might have requested that they proceed with whatever weird interrogation was about to occur with the lights off. He had seen enough Law and Order to know where this was going. Ice-T was about to burst into the room, throw a file at his face, and crack a joke about how dumb rich white kids were. Then maybe Detective Benson would shed a tear from behind the one-way glass as she remembered some traumatic childhood memory about a time when _she_ had been a dumb white kid, but it wasn’t funny when she did it. Cue flashback. Then Josh would be released on a technicality by some sideways judge only to be shot dead on the courthouse steps by his victim’s distraught family member. Insert liberal political commentary. Roll credits.

Josh couldn’t wait to be shot on the courthouse steps. Emily would probably be the one to shoot him. He _had_ been busted harassing _her_ house. So yeah, he was probably about to get his shit vigilante-wrecked. Maybe they could skip to that part already, though, because he’d been sitting in that uncomfortable chair for two hours and his nose _really itched_.

Time to let them have it. “Hey my nose really itches!” Josh called into the empty room. Hopefully the door wasn’t soundproof. The door in question happened to have a really large, head-shaped dent in it. Oh god, how long did they keep people here? What kind of crazy assholes had been locked up in this room? Haha, oh wait Josh was probably the numero uno on that count. Shit, was he going to have to use his head as a battering ram to escape this place? Oh his poor, poor head. Out of the question.

“Hello, anybody out there,” Josh tried again, jingling the heavy cuffs around his wrists. They were digging into his flesh just a little bit – not enough to hurt, but enough to make his stomach a little queasy with anxiety. There was something weirdly panic-inducing about handcuffs and a locked door. Josh couldn’t _stand_ being locked in a room with himself. Everything horrible in his life was already locked irreparably in his own brain. The last thing he needed was to be left alone with it.

“This isn’t like Law and Order at all!” He called out to the dented door. “Why hasn’t anyone read me my rights? What are those called again? Read me my uh…Melinda Rights. No, my Margret Rights. Fuck, I forget what they’re called. Whatever they are I want them read to me. I want my phone call. No, I want my lawyer.” Josh paused. “I don’t have a lawyer. I want a phone call to call a lawyer. No, no, better yet I want a lawyer to make my phone call to another lawyer so I have _two_ lawyers – one on the phone and one in this room who could maybe _scratch my goddamn nose_.” Rattling his handcuffs angrily, Josh bumped his knee loudly on the rickety metal table in front of him. He was fully aware that this outburst wasn’t helping his case at all, but it didn’t matter. The small room was starting to get to him and he had meds to take. “Police brutality! Cruel and unusual punishment! I will not be detained like this!” Mostly, Josh assumed nobody was listening to him. The sound of his own voice was better company than the sound of his own thoughts, though, so he rattled on. “Do you have any idea who my parents are? Do you have any idea who _their_ parents are? Well I don’t, so if you find out could you please let me know? I’ve gotta extort the _shit_ out of those unknown rich grandparents. Wait, I changed my mind, I want my phone call. I’m calling the goddamn president of the United States of America and you’re going to be so sorry…when he does absolutely nothing. But if he _did_ do something, man you’d all be so sorry. Am I rambling? Please, tell me if I’m rambling.”

Somebody banged on the door once from the other side and Josh narrowed his eyes at the unyielding door. That was a shut up knock if he’d ever heard it. Those bastards could totally hear him. “Fine, geez,” Josh muttered, sagging slightly in his chair. “But when I go to jail, make sure I end up in a county with striped jump suits instead of the orange ones. Dude, I look so good in stripes. Also, forward my incarceration status to all my friends. If I’m gonna go to jail I might as well take this once in a lifetime opportunity. See, the best way to tell your real friends from your fake friends is by who shows up for pity conjugal visits. There’s always one weak bitch in the group who won’t go down on his friend to cheer him up. I ain’t even that picky dude. I will fuck Mike Munroe if I have to, and you have that on tape now. Under oath, I would fuck Mike Munroe.”

Josh pursed his lips and glanced wearily up into the small surveillance camera in the far corner of the ceiling. “You know that really peculiar brand of regret that sneaks up on you real slow-like?” He asked the unresponsive camera. “Yeah, kind of feeling that right now. I want to go back on record and say that I would _not_ fuck Mike Munroe if he showed up to visit me in prison. I was a bit hasty there.” Pausing, Josh cocked his head to the side and considered his options. “Unless nobody else shows up, then fine I guess beggars can’t be choosers. What I’m admitting under oath here is that under conditions of _extreme deprivation_ , I, Joshua Washington, would have sexual intercourse with _any_ of my friends and that includes-”

The door flew open and slammed against the inside wall, causing Josh to jump in his seat. Officer Brady was giving him exactly the kind of look he deserved. Being locked in a room does things to you.

“Uh, sorry,” Josh prompted when Officer Brady said nothing. “Think I might have lost my cool there.” When Officer Brady continued staring at him in silence, Josh shifted his handcuffs and gave him a defensive look. “Okay, I just want to clarify that none of what I just said was true…except for the part about me looking awesome in stripes. Or rather, you can’t prove any of it. Except the stripes part. Do you have any striped clothing on you, perchance? Eh, not important. What's important is that this was a coerced confession and it’ll never stand. If you want to prove that I’d fuck Mike Munroe in a court of law you’re going to have to face the full fury of my legal-“

“Please stop,” Officer Brady interrupted, holding a hand up for silence. He ran his other hand through his cropped hair and let out a long sigh. “Please.”

“You can buy my silence,” Josh offered. “For the low price of…how much does a really good lawyer cost? For the low price of that number, I will stop.”

The hapless officer rubbed more insistently at his scalp and shook his head like he might be able to rid himself of this reality where Josh was still saying words. “How about I just take the cuffs off. Then will you keep it down?”

“My silence can’t be bought,” Josh said indignantly. “This is an outrage!”

Officer Brady was increasingly putting himself in danger of male pattern baldness with how vigorously he was rubbing at his hairline. Josh could practically feel the guy’s professionalism having its face grinded off by a belt sander. Poor guy. “Look, do you want the handcuffs off or not?”

Narrowing his eyes, Josh shook his head slowly in disgust. “Fine. Take the cuffs off. But justice is dead and my rights have been irreversibly infringed upon. If I could afford a lawyer, you’d be in so much trouble right now.”

“Okay, we’re just trying to figure out what happened, alright?” The officer sighed, releasing Josh’s wrists from the restraints. “You can see how this looks, can’t you?” He asked reasonably.

Josh wasn’t feeling reasonable. He crossed his arms and stared pointedly to the side of the room when Officer Brady took a seat across from him. “No.”

From the corner of his eye, Josh could see Brady working his jaw in frustration. “What _exactly_ am I supposed to do with you?” He muttered, tapping a nail against the metal table between them.

Josh turned his head back towards the man across from him and scooted his chair forward a bit. Resting his elbows on the table, Josh folded his hands together and gave the officer a calculating look over his steepled fingers. “Offer me a deal. I want to be out of prison before erectile dysfunction sets in. I won’t do more than twenty five years.”

Officer Brady made a helpless gesture towards the heavens as if begging some invisible deity to strike either himself or Josh from the planet and save him from the madman sitting across from him. “You’re not going to prison,” he insisted. “I’m not even sure what the hell just happened.”

“That makes two of us.” Josh put both of his hands flat on the table and leaned back into his chair slightly. “Fine. I’ll cut the shit. But _only_ because I feel bad about trying to attack you with a baseball bat that one time. _Even_ if you tried to shoot me for it. I’m alive and feeling generous.”

“Why is it that the two strangest and most stressful calls of my career have been involving you,” the officer sighed, eyeing Josh wearily over the table. “How about you tell me what happened. I’m just trying to sort this out.”

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mistake #1: ringing someone’s doorbell at midnight, particularly when they still live with their family. It’s just plain rude.

If it hadn’t felt so vital that Josh get in contact with Emily at that very instant then he never would have done it. She wasn’t answering, though, and Josh paced irritably in front of her door. He had to do this _tonight_. If he waited any longer he would chicken out.

Mistake #2: ringing someone’s doorbell at midnight an extra two, three, four-hundred times because _goddamnit this is happening tonight_.

Josh jabbed obnoxiously at the pearl-coated button next to Emily’s door again and again. It could’ve been that nobody was home, but there were a few scattered lights peeking through various front windows, so that was unlikely. Also, there was a car in the driveway, so what gives? Josh increased the frequency with which he was pressing Emily’s doorbell. He would flush her out with sheer annoyance.

Mistake #3: remembering that rich people usually have some form of home security system and trying to use it to your advantage.

Josh glanced upwards at the small portico stretching above his head and searched each corner for a security camera. Bingo. Front, left corner. A small camera had just finished swiveling around to glare down at him and Josh glared back. “Hey, answer the damn door already,” he called up to the camera. “I’ve got some shit to say and I’m not leaving until I’ve said it. I’ll ring this doorbell all goddamn night if I have to.”

 

That was a lie. Josh’s hand got tired from ringing the doorbell and he began knocking insistently against the fancy carved wood of their front door. If he had known Morse code, Josh would’ve tapped out a message along the lines of ‘OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR EMILY’. But she was probably watching him from the camera monitor so she already knew what he was about. “C’mon,” Josh whined, resting his forehead against the door. “If I have to bust down this door, I swear to god I will. Don’t be fooled by my emaciated physique. I’m like, super strong.”

Mistake #4: actually trying to break the door down.

Josh rattled the handle and pushed his shoulder against the center of the door. “I’m gonna bust this shit down like Hulk Hogan, I’m warnin’ you,” he bluffed up at the camera. Yeah, there was no way that was going to happen, but he was getting desperate. Josh took a few steps back before charging forward and crashing his shoulder uselessly against the unyielding wood. This pointless action was repeated a handful of times until Josh’s shoulder ached and his spine was too rattled to continue. “Your door is seconds from annihilation. I just need a break,” Josh panted, bracing his hands against his knees in exhaustion. “Fort fucking Knox,” he wheezed, rolling the kinks out of his neck. “Fuckin’ rich people.”

Glancing behind him, Josh noted that Sam had gotten out of her car. She was resting her arms and chin on the roof of her car, watching his futile efforts with a mildly concerned look. He made a reassuring gesture at her and turned back to the door. He had this. Kind of. Hopefully.

Mistake #5: making threats.

“I swear to god, if I have to burn this damn house down to talk to you, I fucking will. I just have one thing to say to you and then I’ll leave and you never have to see me again. But until I can see your face and say my piece, I’ll tear this house apart to get to you.” Josh paused. “In a non-threatening way.”

This wasn’t working. Josh pushed himself up off of his knees and backed away from under the portico until he could look up at Emily’s house fully from the center of her front yard.

Mistake #6: shouting at full volume at the front of someone’s house at midnight.

“Your neighbors aren’t gonna be very happy that you’re not letting me in!” Josh bellowed up at the lit rooms on the second floor. “I can do this all night!”

“Josh!” Sam hissed from far behind him. “Knock it off, we’re gonna get the cops called on us!”

Another light clicked on through the window of Emily’s house and Josh gestured at it. “See? She’s up there,” he called back to Sam. “I’ve just gotta be more annoying.”

“Well you’re doing a super job of that so far. Keep it up,” Sam returned. “If we end up in prison, though, I’m ordering a hit on you.”

“Oi! I know you’re up there!” Josh roared, ignoring Sam completely. “You’re making this so much more difficult than it has to be! Open the _fucking door I have to thank you, you giant asshole!”_ Somebody grabbed Josh’s shoulder and spun him around violently. He blinked down at Sam’s panicked expression. “What?”

“I get that you need to do this, but you’re going about it the wrong way,” she whispered frantically. “You look and sound like you’re about to axe down their front door and go full Jack Nicholson on them, Josh. You’ve gotta breathe.”

Nodding slowly, Josh inhaled deeply and released it in a slow sigh. “Fine. I’m not crazy, Sammy,” he said more for himself than for her. “I just have to talk to her.”

“I know you’re not crazy,” Sam agreed, rubbing his upper arm comfortingly. “But Emily’s parents aren’t your biggest fans.”

“Okay, but I’m not leaving.” Josh crossed his arms against the frigid wind that had kicked up around them. “If I leave now, I’ll never come back.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Sam released his arm and gestured back towards her car. “Let me go turn my car off and I’ll try knocking. Emily and her parents like me, so they might open the door if they know I’m here. Just wait for me.”

Josh nodded dumbly and couldn’t stop himself from repeating, “I’m not crazy.”

“Are you ever going to trust me when I say that I know that?” She asked sadly, before heading back towards her car where it was still puffing exhaustion up into the deep night sky.

She was right. Josh needed to cool his fucking engines already. Per her instructions, Josh continued taking in deep breaths and releasing them slowly in clouds of condensation. Sam was always right.

Mistake #6: not noticing the police car until it rolled up behind Sam’s car and emitted a single, loud siren wail and a flash of red and blue.

Josh ceased his pacing through Emily’s yard and froze in the fear of a close memory. A rasied bat - staring down the barrel of a gun - a bullet with his name on it. He shook his head to dispel the memory and shifted his gaze to where Sam was frozen in the driver’s seat of her car, illuminated by the patrol car’s spotlight. She raised her hands slowly above her head in surrender.

Fucking typical. A dude can’t get his harassment on without police interference. The police officer pulled himself out of the driver’s seat of his patrol car and clicked his flashlight on. He swept it around the area a few times while stalking closer to Sam’s car. Before he reached it, though, his flashlight swept over to where Josh was frozen in Emily’s yard and the officer stopped dead in his tracks. Emily’s front yard was short and they were only about twenty or thirty feet from each other.

“You!” The officer shouted, pointing an authoritative finger directly at Josh’s chest. It felt like a gun. “You’re the crazy bat guy!” He added, changing his course from Sam’s car to Josh’s location.

Oh, fuck. Josh held his hands up defensively and began backing away towards Emily’s front door. “Okay, I’m _not_ crazy, I’m just…uh, I’m just…not always completely sane,” he concluded lamely. The officer was getting closer and Josh was able to drag his gaze up from the man’s accusing finger long enough to get a look at his face. “Now wait a minute, you’re the crazy gun guy. You almost shot me, ya prick!”

Mistake #7: being the crazy bat guy.

“You attacked me with a bat!”

Josh scoffed, stumbling a bit as he walked backwards. He was quickly running out of space to walk backwards into. “Okay, I _almost_ attacked you with a bat. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I got a call that some lunatic was harassing this family, trespassing, and making threats against their well-being,” the officer said clinically. “I’m assuming that’s you?”

Josh’s back bumped into the front of Emily’s house. Cornered. Fuck.

“Psh, me? That wasn’t me. I’m just…visiting. Loudly. At midnight. And without their permission,” he said begrudgingly, shrinking back against the house. At least the officer didn’t have his gun out this time. But his hand was resting on the holster and it left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Josh's stomach, which was currently performing frantic anaerobic exercises around his midriff.

The officer seemed to sense his anxiety and released his hand from the holster of his gun, holding it up disarmingly. “Easy there, kid. I just need to ask you some questions. We can sort this all out back at the station. You’re not in trouble yet.”

“I feel a little in trouble,” Josh laughed nervously. Over the officer’s shoulder, Josh could see that Sam was still in her car, a look of barely concealed horror frozen on her face. Josh wasn’t sure if she could really see his face clearly from the distance between them, but he jerked his head to the side and mouthed ‘ _go’_ at her. If Josh was going to get arrested anyways, he needed to ensure that Sam wasn’t going to be in prison either. And it wasn’t just because she would order a hit on him. That was definitely part of it, though.

Sam hadn’t left yet. He widened his eyes and gave her a more insistent look. Fight or flight, Sam. After what seemed like an eternity of silent communication, she finally tore off down the street. If Josh ever got out of jail, he couldn’t wait to tease her for being a traitor. They weren’t very good partners in crime.

“Shit,” the officer cursed, glancing briefly behind him at the departing car, before returning his eyes to Josh. Only, when he turned back to look at his prisoner, Josh was sprinting across Emily’s front yard toward her neighbor’s yard. He didn’t even remember taking off, but there’s just something about the police that makes you want to run from them.

Mistake #8: running when you have the athletic capability of a thirty-year-old dog with cataracts and a bum kidney.

The effort was good, but his form was lacking. And he couldn’t see shit. He especially didn’t see when the officer tackled him from behind into the damp grass a few houses down from Emily's. Honestly, Josh was surprised he had gotten as far as he did. There was a knee in the back of his neck and grass poking him in the eye. “Is this really necessary?” He groaned into the damp earth pressing into his face.

“You’re the one who ran!” The officer panted, clicking a pair of handcuffs tightly around Josh’s right wrist. “I told you I just wanted to talk to you.”

Something about the whole situation had Josh laughing into the cold ground. This probably wasn’t doing much for his case for not being crazy. “Alright, alright I just panicked. Nice form, though. You’re like a fucking cheetah, dude.” When the officer pulled him into a sitting position, Josh read the shiny gold nameplate on his lapel out loud. “Officer Brady. Nice tackle.”

“Thanks," Brady returned breathlessly. "Are you usually this difficult for no reason?” He grumbled, holding Josh up by the material on the shoulder of his jacket.

Josh grinned up at him. “Dude, you have _no_ idea.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“And that pretty much catches you up,” Josh said simply, turning his hands up on the table in an open gesture. “I was just trying to visit a friend. I admit I might have inserted a few jokes about burning her house down in poor taste.”

“Why’d you run?” Officer Brady asked him for the millionth time.

Josh rolled his eyes. “I panicked, alright? Our last encounter didn’t end all that well.”

“Wait. Last time wasn’t it that Emily girl who got your ass out of that mess?” He asked slowly, shuffling through a few papers in a manila folder. “Why were you harassing her? She really saved your ass back there.”

“I wasn’t _harassing_ her,” Josh protested. “I was trying to thank her!”

“Her parents said that you threatened to burn their house down.”

“Yeah, but like, in a friendly way.”

Officer Brady squinted at him from across the table and raised an eyebrow slowly. “You were going to burn her house down…in a friendly way.”

Well, when he put it that way.

Josh laughed and slapped a hand against the cold table. “See? We make a good team you and I. I come up with bad ideas and you point out how bad they are. If we can go long enough without you trying to shoot me, this is going to be a beautiful friendship, Brady.”

Brady was twisting his wedding ring absently and giving Josh a tired, but amused look. “I’m not really sure what to think of you,” he admitted. “I’ve got a schizophrenic cousin, though, so I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry I called you crazy. And I’m sorry I drew on you last time, you just made me nervous.”

Weirdly, Brady’s clinical apology was kind of touching. “See? A beautiful friendship,” Josh laughed, gesturing between the two of them. “So be real with me here, Brady. What’s going to happen to me?” He glanced around nervously, the weight of being locked up settling back around his shoulders. “Am I going to jail? If I don’t get home soon, I’m going to fuck up my medication schedule. You have firsthand experience of what I’m like when that happens.”

Brady nodded and stood from the table. “We’re trying to figure it out. My lieutenant is talking with the involved parties right now. I’ll let you know when we get it resolved. I can try and arrange something with your medication, but I’m not sure how much they’ll listen to me.” He shrugged apologetically and tapped the rank patch on his sleeve. “Still a rookie.”

With that, Brady departed, leaving Josh alone in the quiet room, sizzling under the harsh glare of too many fluorescent lights. “Shit,” Josh muttered to himself, drumming his fingers against the table. Good thing his parents had left that evening for an overnight business trip. They might’ve been able to help him, but there was something terrifying about letting them know he’d been locked up. The last thing Josh wanted was for his parents to think he was dangerous. That’d damn near break their hearts and he’d done enough of that to them. No, he was on his own this time. Emily’s parents were gonna have him locked up for sure. “ _Shit,”_ he repeated, resting his forehead on the table. It was cold against his skin and provided some relief for the stress headache pulsing painfully in his brain.

They left him in that room for another hour or two. It was difficult to measure time accurately with no clock and nothing but time. Brady brought him coffee at one point and listened to Josh explain the entire plot of Terminator to keep his mind off of the murky future. Brady wasn’t actually too bad. Halfway through the plot of Terminator 2, though, his lieutenant had cracked the door open and motioned for Brady to follow him. Josh had apparently failed to look nonchalant at his departure, so Brady assured him he would be back. At least he had one person kind of on his side.

When Brady returned, he was caring a plastic bin and a friendly smile. “Good news.”

“No death penalty?” Josh joked, sitting up eagerly in his chair.

“Even better. We got in contact with Emily and she made her parents drop the charges. You’re free to go, kid,” he said, setting the bin on the table. Josh’s wallet, house keys, and jacket were sitting inside.

Staring down into the plastic bin, Josh tried to settle on one single emotion. “So you mean to tell me that Emily wasn’t even _at_ her house? I’m honestly the worst criminal imaginable, Brady.”

“Yeah, you kind of are. Makes my job easier, though,” he chuckled, nudging the bin closer to Josh. “Don’t take it too hard. Looks like your friends are still watching out for you. You must be a hell of a guy to earn that kind of love, kid.”

Josh wished there was a way to stop the color creeping along his face that he knew was betraying his own embarrassment. “Psh, m-me? No, I’m just lucky. I didn’t earn anything,” he laughed nervously, knocking his house keys on the ground. Fuck.

Brady shrugged, but didn’t comment further on it. Instead, he pulled a business card from his vest pocket and set it on Josh’s wallet. “Hopefully I never have to see you again. But if you ever get in trouble or have any more bad ideas, go ahead and give me a call first.”

“Bad ideas? I’ll be blowing up your phone,” Josh teased, pulling his jacket on and retrieving his keys from the floor. Brady’s business card was tucked safely into his wallet, though. Undoubtedly, there were many bad ideas waiting for him in the future.

Brady just rolled his eyes and guided Josh from the room. And Sam said Josh wasn’t good at making friends. It was simple, really. All you had to do was attack them with a bat and reunite later under the guise of trespassing and attempted arson. Then they tackle you and befriend you. Simple stuff.

The glowing exit sign at the precinct’s front door was like a beacon of hope. Josh had no idea how he was getting home or how long Emily was going to allow him to live before having him assassinated, but freedom was only a couple of paces away. He turned back briefly to give Brady a casual salute before stepping through the front doors into a deep, chilling night.

It was unpleasant and bracing at the same time.

Kind of like the sight of Emily, arms crossed and glaring daggers at him only ten feet from the exit. It was awfully kind of her to show up to murder him in person. Josh was flattered _and_ terrified.

“Er, hello there,” he stuttered, stopping so suddenly that he wobbled a bit with the contrasting velocity. “You wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.” Just behind Emily, Josh was surprised to see pretty much everyone else he knew. Chris and Ashley were giving him a sympathetic look and Sam looked like she had given Josh up for dead. She was wrapped in Matt’s overly large jacket and he wondered how many Hail Mary’s she had said on his behalf. Even Matt looked like he had just come from planning Josh’s funeral. Jess was the only one who didn’t seem all that concerned. Her back was pressed to Mike's chest and she was zipped up in his jacket. She offered Josh an encouraging smile over the top of Mike’s zipper. Yeah, this was definitely the part where he died.

Josh took a page out of Sam’s book and began saying his own Hail Mary’s.

 

_Hail Mary, full of grace_

_Our Lord is with thee (when it’s convenient for him)._

_Blessed art thou among women,_

_Uh…something something about Jesus._

_Holy Mary, Mother of God,_

_Pray for us sinners (particularly Josh Washington),_

_Now and at the hour of our death (which were about to become the same things)._

_Amen._

 

 

Emily took a step towards him and shifted her bag on her arm.

This time, Josh was ready for it.

When Emily swung her bag at his head, Josh ducked under it and scampered a little to the side to avoid collision.

Fool me once: shame on you.

Fool me _twenty-seven_ times: shame on me.

“Please don’t kill me,” he pleaded, back pressed against the side of the entryway.

Fortunately, Emily didn’t swing again. She just dropped her bag back down at her side and roller her eyes at him. “Why are you so determined to give me an ulcer?” She demanded, gesturing at his entire self.

Repressing the urge to whimper again, Josh clenched his fists and prepared for the long haul. It was now or never. “I needed to thank you,” he said, standing up a bit straighter. “I know you don’t want to see me ever again, but if you’re going to insist on saving my ass, then I’m going to insist on thanking you.”

Emily’s mouth turned down in a thin line, but she responded with only silence and a calculating glare. Josh felt like his entire soul was being sorted into small piles labeled ‘worthwhile’ and ‘beyond hope’. It was flattering that the calculations were taking so long. Josh himself might’ve just dumped it all into the latter pile.

“I’m sorry I’m so disappointing,” he finally said, unable to wait any longer for Emily to break the tense silence. “I’m sorry I let you trust me. And I’m sorry you can’t bring yourself to just let me crash and burn, no matter how much I betrayed you. And I’m sorry I can’t just continue living my life without letting you know that at _least_ once. I’m sorry for all of it, but I can’t change any of it,” he said, gesturing helplessly around him. “We are what we are, Emily. We are what we are.”

For the first time Josh could remember, Emily’s sharp gaze softened around the edges and fell into one of tired empathy. “I _hate_ what we are,” she said quietly, letting out a small laugh that was probably intended to be cruel. It wasn’t. It just sounded disappointed.

Josh nodded wearily, pulling a hand down his face. “Yeah. Nobody’s truly a good person until they can _stay_ a good person when they’re terrified. But I hope to god that who we are when we’re scared isn’t who we really are.”

Behind Emily, Ashley shifted uncomfortably and wrapped a hand around Chris’s forearm. Mike looked like he was in physical pain, while Jess's eyes were glazed with some distant memory. It felt like there was a taught rope branched out across the space between them all, connecting them like a spider web. If anyone moved, they would all be tugged along.

“Guess I’m not truly a good person, then,” Emily laughed bitterly. "I didn't think the realization would be as shitty as it feels."

Josh nodded in tired understanding. “Yeah, turns out none of us are. We’re like any other sucker who’d tear their friends to pieces just for some relief from the fear. I'd give anything to forget what we did to each other.”

“It’s a son of a bitch, isn’t it?” Emily mused. “Finding that out. Ruins everything.”

“Yeah, it kind of is. It didn’t ruin you, though,” he offered.

Emily scoffed and shifted her bag to her other arm. Josh fought the urge to duck again. “It did.”

“Nah. You’re here. I’m not rotting in prison. If everything feels ruined, it’s only because you think it _should_ be. I do too.” Josh grinned and gestured behind Emily at the silent crowd behind them. “How do you forgive your asshole friends when you don’t want to? That’s easy. The hard part is how to reconcile your own sound logic with the fact that you’ve _already_ forgiven them when everything inside you is screaming that they don’t deserve it. Good luck with that one, Em.”

“Mike almost shot me in the face,” Emily deadpanned. “You almost got us all killed.”

“Life is weird isn’t it? Pretty fucked up stuff.”

Emily smirked at him. “I guess it is.” She dug around in her bag for a moment before tossing a rattling pill bottle at him. Josh caught it and was surprised to find his own prescription tag staring up at him. “If we’re all awful people, I guess we’ve just gotta stick together then. Who else is going to put up with us if we’re inclined to shoot each other in the face at the first sign of danger?”

Josh grinned up at her, clutching his own medication like a lifeline. “Absolutely nobody." He let out a rattling breath that shook into a slight chuckle. "But just imagine how much easier things will be when we figure out how to forgive ourselves for forgiving each other, eh?" It felt like the taught rope tangled and stretched between them all had fallen slack. They were still attached, but it didn't hurt anymore. It wasn't strained. It was fine.

“Seriously, though,” Emily said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I’m still pissed at you. I meant it when I texted you to get fucked. Watch yourself, Washington.” She whirled around to face the rest of their awful friends and they all jumped a bit. “And the rest of you sick fucks need to get your shit together too. Shape up or ship out, assholes.”

Matt was beaming at her like she’d just told them all that they were wonderful friends full of potential and positive energy. Jess saluted from inside Mike’s jacket and Ashley looked like she was going to cry. In a good way.

Aw. Friendship.

Nothing stronger than the bonds forged through being awful people.

“Alright, this is beautiful or whatever,” Chris said slowly, “but was it really necessary for us to all be here? You made it sound like Josh was going to jail.” He gave Sam an accusatory look.

“What? I panicked,” She muttered, pulling Matt’s jacket tighter around herself. “When _you_ get arrested, I’ll make sure everyone comes to _your_ interrogation.”

Emily sighed and hefted her bag higher on her shoulder. "Please don't. I'm getting really tired of getting you guys out of trouble."

“Don’t be jealous, bro,” Josh laughed, stepping around Emily to pull both Chris and Ashley into a tight hug. “If either of you ever goes to jail, I won’t rest until they let me in for conjugal visits. No friend of mine goes without pity sex.”

When he pulled back, Ashley looked a little mortified and noticeably redder, but Chris just snorted and elbowed Josh in the stomach. “Fucking creep,” he snickered.

“Alright, alright,” Mike interrupted, releasing Jess from his jacket and stepping between them. “Nobody’s fucking anybody in a prison trailer.”

“I thought we were friends, Mike. I admitted some super personal things under oath in there.”

“Can it, Josh. Can we go home now? I’m freezing my ass off.”

Everyone’s asses were equally frozen, so they departed shortly thereafter. Josh wasn’t allowed to leave until Emily berated him for his careless adherence to his medication schedule and made him change her contact from ‘Unknown2’ to ‘Josh’s Reckoning’ in his phone.

“Who the hell is Dr. Van Halen?” Josh glanced over to where Emily was scrolling through his phone. “Wait, is that our therapist?”

“I honestly have no idea what his name is,” Josh admitted. “But yeah.”

“That’s pretty funny considering his last name is _also_ Washington,” she said dryly, updating the contact information. “His name’s Dr. Washington, dumbass.”

Irony was alive and well.

Josh wouldn’t get around to writing Emily’s entry in his journal until later that night, but it went something like this:

 

>   * _Emily learned that you just have to accept that your friends are going to disappoint you sometimes and it cost her some angry parents and a few clever legal maneuvers._
> 


 

>   * _Josh learned that you are what you are and it cost him an arrest that didn’t stick._
> 


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've ever thought i was even 1% poetic, just remember that like 89% of my writing occurs when im in my underpants with a beer resting on my stomach. i hope that ruins everything.
> 
> anyways, i'm pretty set on two more chapters. we'll have one more in this timeline and an epilogue-like chapter. next chapter's basically josh's last chance to make a move. haha he's gonna fuck it up i just know it. get fucked.
> 
> tumblr user [qamazz](http://qamazz.tumblr.com) pointed out [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-IJ1a36mT_w) song to me and im really feelin it.
> 
> also thanks to all the silent readers who stepped forward to offer me additional support last chapter, that was super rad and unexpected so thanks pals. enjoy the rest of your weekends.


	15. all solo idiots will be paired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no matter now helpless they seem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will i ever be able to contain a chapter to an appropriate length
> 
> enjoy, friends. i embarrassed myself heartily in this chapter

 

Josh pounded his head lightly on the dashboard of Sam’s car some six, seven, eight, nine million and two times while Sam rattled on about fracking bans and big oil companies or whatever. Even _she_ was boring herself, but they had little else to do. They were both in the proverbial fire for interrupting everyone’s Saturday night and had been put in adult timeout. As a punishment for getting himself arrested and dragging everyone away from their plans, Josh and Sam had been relegated to chauffeuring everyone to their delayed Saturday funtimes. Sam had voiced how enormously unfair she found it that she was in the hot seat for what Josh had done, but nobody was having it. Sam had driven Josh to Emily’s house, Sam had nearly been arrested too, and Sam had shoved them all in her car and driven them to the police station with the panicked insistence that Josh was facing lethal injection. No, they weren’t having it. Sam was in the dunce corner too.

If Josh was a better person he would have felt bad for putting Sam in that mess, but honestly she should have known better than to let Josh have an idea. They were both idiots and they were both paying the price. But it definitely sucked that the price happened to be driving everyone to their fun Saturday night plans while the two of them sat in parking lots and waited for movies to end or dinners to be enjoyed. Sam thought she had gotten the raw end of the deal as the one who had to do all the driving, but whenever the car got too crowded they would put Josh in the trunk, so honestly her argument was one of the weakest to date.

“And that’s not even to mention the enormous amount of water waste that goes into it. But what I really don’t get is-“

Josh slapped his hands against Sam’s dashboard and swung his head to around to give her a pained look. “I love you Sammy, but if you give me one more fact about how oil companies are grinding our children’s bones for their bread I swear to god.”

“What? Are you gonna go get arrested again? You can’t threaten me,” she said dryly, crossing her arms and pulling her knees up to her chest behind the steering wheel.

Josh let out a sound like a punctured bike tire and put his forehead back on her dashboard. “I’m a hardened criminal now. Don’t tempt me.” A static-riddled rendition of some David Bowie song filtered through Sam’s low volume radio and Josh huffed another exaggerated sigh. “This blows.”

“Yeah and it’s totally your fault,” Sam repeated for the thirteen-millionth time since they had left the police station. “When will they release us from this hell.”

Leaning back in his seat, Josh held up six fingers and began ticking them off. “Let’s see. We dropped Emily and Matt at that fancy twenty-four hour restaurant off of Broadway; picked up takeout for Jess and Mike; dropped Chris and Ashley at that burger joint on 8th; picked up a movie for Jess and Mike because they’re too dumb to illegally download something; picked up Emily’s dry cleaning for some reason I haven’t quite figured out; picked Chris and Ashley back up; dropped Jess and Mike back at Mike’s apartment; picked Emily and Matt back up; dropped Chris and Ashley off at that movie they wanted to see that I _also_ really wanted to see but they’re both assholes; dropped Emily and Matt off at her parents house and her parents talked shit about me to you for like half an hour while I was hiding in the trunk; and now we’re here waiting for Chris and Ashley to finish their dumb movie. So to answer your question: who cares. What’s another few hours of indentured servitude?”

David Bowie’s fuzzy voice seemed to agree mournfully with Josh’s assessment. “This is all your fault,” Sam said for the thirteen-millionth and one time. Sam was nothing if not persistent.

“Fine, it’s all my fault.” He crossed his arms and cast his eyes back out over the empty parking lot and flickering streetlights. “David Bowie would never treat me this way,” he muttered.

Sam snorted. “David Bowie would have left you in jail. Age comes with wisdom.”

Turning in his seat, Josh gave her a scandalized look. “Don’t you _ever_ try to demonize David Bowie to me like that again.”

Josh was doing a good job of looking appropriately offended until the corners of Sam’s mouth pulled involuntarily into an amused grin. “Fuck you,” he laughed, directing his dissolved glare back out into the empty expanse of parking lot. “Fuck you, Sammy.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad your not in jail,” Sam offered, setting her chin on her knees. “You wouldn’t have lasted in the big house.”

“What are you trying to say?” He asked in mock offense. “I’m tough. I could join a prison gang.”

“Oh, please. You would be part of the loser prison gang. My prison gang would kick your prison gang’s ass,” she laughed, turning the volume up on her radio.

Josh made to protest, but thought better of it and shrugged in surrender. “What? That’s not-well…okay it’s kind of true. At least I’m loyal, though. You fuckin’ ditched me when the 5-0 showed up. You’re heartless.”

“What was I supposed to do, fight the police?” Sam scoffed, turning the radio up even louder, like she might be able to drown him out. “Besides, you told me to go. Live to fight another day and all that. I’m not going to apologize.”

When Sam retracted her hand from the radio controls, Josh reached out and turned it back down. “I wept bitter tears at your betrayal, Sammy. Bitter tears. If Louise had betrayed Thelma like that you can bet your ass that movie would have been way shorter. I would never have run away to Mexico with you after a stunt like that.”

Sam’s face was slightly red and Josh felt a _little_ bad, but Sam could hold her own. “First of all, I want to return someday to the fact that you automatically admit that you’re definitely Thelma in this partnership. Second of all, if I’m going to Mexico I wouldn’t have even _offered_ to take you. You’d get me caught in like, six minutes.”

Josh slapped his leg in mirth and jabbed a finger into Sam’s shoulder. She brushed it off huffily and turned away from him. “Sammy, I’m just fuckin’ with you. I definitely told you to hightail it out of there. And this is definitely my fault.” Sam turned slightly back towards him in partial forgiveness and he offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry our asshole friends pinned this one on you too.”

Sam grunted in response. It was far from total forgiveness, though, so Josh searched his brain frantically for some way to close the gap between them.

“Oh, I know what’ll cheer you up,” he said, snapping his fingers in sudden recollection. “When you drove off after Officer Brady showed up, you missed some prime blackmail material. He turned around to watch you when you peeled out of there and for some reason I just took off running. I just bolted. That police officer fucking took me down. Honest to god, Sammy, he was a cheetah and I was like the ugly, deformed wildebeest that the other wildebeests leave for dead. Man, I would give anything to get a tape of that takedown.”

Sam rolled her eyes, but it was an eye roll of forgiveness and Josh cheered internally. “Why would you try to run?” She asked critically, like she already knew the answer. “That’s an even worse idea than screaming at someone’s parents’ house at midnight.”

“I had to go catch up with Louise. See, we had plans to run away to Mexico together.” Josh mentally high-fived himself. He was awesome.

Obviously that wasn’t the answer she was expecting, because she blinked at him for a few moments before smiling and leaning back in her seat. “Well alright then,” she said quietly. After a few moments of silence, Sam began talking again, her eyes fixed stiffly on some point in the distance. “Do you know why I dropped out of college?” She asked carefully.

Psh, that was an easy one.

“Um, probably because I tricked you into coming to a mountain so I could psychologically torment you and your friends and completely betrayed any sense of security or trust you ever had in me. Oh, and then a bunch of monsters crawled out of the woodwork and tried to rip us limb from limb. I figure that has something to do with it.” Sam was giving him a rather alarmed look and Josh himself was surprised by what had just come out of his mouth. It was true, but normally getting himself to talk about it was like pulling his teeth out by hand. “It’s true,” he added defensively.

Sam nodded slowly. “Well, yeah I guess. That’s how it started, but I think I began to believe that I just plain didn’t _like_ people anymore. I couldn’t _stand_ them. I just hated how broken it made us all. I thought I was better than that or something. I’m not even really sure what it was. So I ran.”

“Join the club,” Josh muttered.

“That’s the thing, though,” she continued thoughtfully. “I thought running was leagues away from what you did. But it wasn’t until I joined your club, so to speak, and spent time with you that I realized how stupid I was being by just running and hating people and pretending I was being noble by not talking about it. No offense.”

“None taken.” The David Bowie song had long since ended and some song Josh didn’t recognize was fading in and out of his awareness. “I’m pretty stupid.”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not much better. I guess what I’m trying to say is thanks. I’m notoriously bad at admitting I’m having a hard time, because I don’t even see it. So I didn’t see I was struggling until I started to feel better. And weirdly enough, I think I feel better because of you.” She stopped herself, brows furrowed like it physically pained her to share these things with him. “And I guess I’m just kind of proud of you for trying to get better. I didn't think you would.”

“Awwww,” Josh crooned, leaning over to give Sam an exaggerated hug.

She shrunk against her car door to avoid his patronizing hug, her face a delightful shade of mortification and embarrassment. “Fuck you Josh,” she laughed, ducking under his arms and achieving a successfully out of reach distance. “God, I hate you.”

“I can live with that,” he snickered, “as long as I make you _feel better_.”

Sam slapped his hand away when he tried to poke her stomach. “Yeah, when you’re not getting arrested or backing my car into a light post. Our good moments are few and far between, Josh. And I hate you. Did I mention that? Because I do.”

Oh, Josh wasn’t too sure about that. Honestly, even their worst moments were still some of his favorites. If they drove off a literal cliff together, it would still probably make his top twenty. “Sure, Sammy.” Small groups of people had started filtering out of the front doors of the movie theatre and he sat up eagerly, straining his eyes for Chris and Ashley. “Holy shit, I think the movie’s over. Fucking _finally_.”

“Holy shit,” Sam echoed, mirroring Josh’s attentive posture. “I’m so tired. This day has been ridiculous. Honestly, it’s lasted like a whole four chapters.” She turned her keys and the engine roared to life with a hiccup and a growl.

“Nerds at two o’clock!” Josh pointed out the unmistakably nerdy outlines of their friends as they exited the theatre. “If they ask us to drive them anywhere else, we’re killing them and burying them in my backyard.”

“Deal.”

Unbeknownst to Chris and Ashley, they made the unconsciously wise choice of calling it a night after the movie, thereby avoiding being murdered and buried in Josh’s backyard. Chris had left his car at Josh’s house when Sam had called him frantically after Josh’s arrest. This was fine with Josh, because it just meant that he could get home more quickly. From the theatre, they beelined for the Washington house while Chris and Ashley completely spoiled the movie from the backseat. Josh had no proof that they were doing it on purpose as part of his punishment, but it certainly felt that way.

“You two are gross,” Josh said childishly when they accidentally gave away yet another major plot twist. “Get a room.”

“Aw, are you jealous, bro?” Chris asked sweetly from behind Josh’s headrest. When Josh grunted his dissent, Chris leaned around Josh’s headrest and pecked him on the cheek. “No more tears, bro,” he laughed, retreating before Josh could elbow him in the face.

“You just don’t kiss me like you used to,” Josh lamented, turning in his seat to reach back and sock Chris in the arm. “Ash deserves better.”

“Maybe we should cut out the middle man,” Ashley offered, winking at Josh. “Nobody will see it coming.”

Chris looked horrified at the suggestion, but Josh just laughed and winked back at her. “Some old dude once told me that I’d be surprised by who I ended up with. What’re you up to tonight, Ash?”

“Alright, alright nobody’s cutting out any middle men,” Chris blustered, shoving Josh back into the front seat by his face. “You’re a menace.”

“Don’t worry, Chris,” Sam said apologetically as she turned onto Josh’s street, “I’ll be your rebound if you start to get too lonely.”

“Fuck no,” Josh laughed, “you’re joining me and Ashley. Chris gets nobody.” He peaked slyly back up above his headrest only to have his face shoved back again by an irritated Chris.

Chris launched into some tirade about the miserable quality of his friends and something about social networking ruining his life while the rest of them had a good laugh at his expense. It was easy to forget that Ashley felt alone and Chris felt overwhelmed and Sam felt weak and Josh felt useless in that moment. Maybe that’s why moments like that are good. After all, what’s the harm in temporarily forgetting something that’s not even true?

Much to Josh’s dismay, when they got back to his house, the hundreds of boxes from the retirement home banquet were stacked in his driveway. Apparently Sam had dumped them all there before departing with Chris and Ashley to pick up everyone else.

“My arch nemesis,” Josh hissed, circling around the army of boxes. “Burn them Sammy. We’ve done all we can do for them.”

“To much work,” she said wearily, letting herself into his house. Chris and Ashley followed her inside, but Josh lingered behind a moment to point a threatening finger at the inanimate boxes in his driveway. They were not to be trusted. Sam poked her head back outside and beckoned for Josh to follow. “Hurry up, it’s cold out.”

 

Even though it was incredibly late, nobody seemed particularly inclined to go home. When Josh complained about being hungry, Chris somehow made a casserole from the weird collection of ingredients in Josh’s house. Making a casserole in itself is a weird thing for a college-aged dude to do at his best friend’s house, but the fact that it was done out of disgustingly genuine concern for Josh’s health was even more ridicule-worthy. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, Josh knew that Chris felt bad that they had all made him and Sam sit in a car all night. So Chris made casserole like a fucking weirdo and Ashley taught Josh how to play Scrabble because somehow Josh had gone his whole life without playing Scrabble. Both Ashley and Sam were enormously amused by this and took it upon themselves to design the most humiliating game possible for Josh’s first time. They utterly destroyed him, but Josh thought this reflected more poorly on them for seeking to demolish a novice for no other reason than it was humorous for them. Around Ashley’s five-hundredth point, Josh had started throwing out bullshit words like ‘FROZES’ and ‘GRANDY’ and ‘FUK’. To their credit, Ashley and Sam had a good enough sense of humor to allow the last one with a crack about how ‘fuk-ed’ Josh was.

When Josh’s ass had been thoroughly kicked, they all sat around and made fun of Chris and his casserole. The casserole itself was great. They ate it and readily admitted its quality. That, however, had no bearing on the fervor with which they teased him for it. If Chris was going to insist on being the nice, casserole-making friend, then they were going to insist on being awful about it.

Eventually they managed to hit the point of exhaustion where they could no longer come up with clever ways to embarrass Chris, so Ashley determined that it was time to split. Josh, of course, wouldn’t let Chris depart without asking for a good night kiss in the raunchiest voice he could manage. This, unfortunately, ended with Chris just shrugging and kissing him square on the mouth. Very well, Christopher, if that’s how you want to play this game.

Josh, when he was done spluttering and gaping like an idiot, began plotting his revenge. Chris won this round, but he was going to have to watch his back. Not in a ‘my best bro is going to invite me to a ski lodge and terrorize me’ kind of way. More in a healthy kind of revenge way, if there even was such a thing. But that was going to have to be a long-term healthy revenge plan, because Chris had already departed, smug and victorious. Ashley laughed so hard that Josh couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Was that how he used to kiss you?” She asked around her mirthful tears, as Chris tugged her along toward where his car was parked in front of Josh’s house.

“Nope. It used to be way sexier,” Josh muttered, scrubbing irritably at his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “You’re in over your head, Chris!” He called at their departing backs. “Just imagine how embarrassing my retaliation is going to have to be!”

The only thing Chris offered Josh before climbing into his car and driving off was a suggestive eyebrow waggle and a pistol finger. Fucking casserole-making, stealth-kissing asshole friends.

Sam was standing next to him, leaning on the doorframe while Josh threw his hands up in frustration and gestured angrily at Chris’s departing car. He was unable to form real words, but Sam let him seethe without comment.

When he had finally fallen into grumpy silence, Sam turned to look at him and her eyes glinted mischievously. “Well now that they’re gone, you know what that means?” She asked in a low, dangerous tone.

Josh swallowed as quietly as possible, but it still sounded like a fucking gong in his head. “Er, more Scrabble?” He tried nervously. More Scrabble? Seriously, Washington, pull yourself together.

“Even better,” she laughed, giving him a look that he was forced to quickly look away from. Josh knew he was being played, but like always, Sam was winning.

“Even better?” he repeated dumbly. Sam was stroking his arm and he had to resist the urge to take a step away from her for some thinking and breathing room.

Her dangerous look fizzled out into a cheeky grin, though, and she punched him lightly in the side. “Yeah, better, like helping me put those boxes back in my car. God, what were you thinking, pervert.”

He tried not to look too disappointed, but it must not have worked because Sam took one look at his face and burst out laughing. “C’mon, we can finish quickly with the two of us.”

“With the two of us, I’d try my best _not_ to,” he joked, allowing himself to be led toward the towers of boxes. “But I’m not sure how well I’d do. You’re very pretty.”

“Just move the boxes, Josh.”

The boxes were moved, but it was stretched over an unnecessary length of time and filled in with sixty percent complaining and thirty percent miscellaneous dicking around. It had to have been sometime after six in the morning by the time Sam’s car was loaded again and Josh realized that he really, really didn’t want Sam to leave. When she turned her back to grab the last box, Josh slid one of the boxes from her car and put it on the ground next to her. Each time she went to grab what she assumed was the last box, Josh would slide another one out and set it beside her. This semi-baffling occurrence only fooled her for a minute or two before she realized what was happening and made Josh stand on the other side of her car.

“Stay there in timeout,” she instructed before loading the final box into the back seat. The joke was on her, though, because Josh had started removing boxes from the other side of the car and setting them on the pavement where Sam couldn’t see them.

“Well, we’ve already spent all night in timeout, what’s another few minutes?” He said lightly, setting another box on the driveway. Sam was going to murder him. “Welcome to the dunce corner, by the way. I never got the chance to welcome you. Here you can enjoy certain perks like low expectations and instant gratification.”

His rambling was interrupted by a loud crash from around the side of his house, which could have easily been a toppled trashcan or a fucking UFO crash for all he knew. Either way, it was loud and Josh was a delicate person when it came to scary things. He dropped the box he was unloading and gripped the fabric of his shirt near his heart, leaning back against the side of Sam’s car. His head swung around, eyes searching the pressing darkness for the source of the crash. Just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Oh shit, was he hallucinating? Fuck. He’d taken his medication regularly the last few days and everything, so what the fuck was the deal here.

“Josh!” Sam hissed from the other side of his car. “What the fuck was that?”

Oh, thank god. Josh wasn’t crazy. There was a _real_ thing trying to kill them. What a relief. “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I thought I was hallucinating.”

Sam made a distressed noise and he could hear her trying to sidle around the corner of her car to his side. His heart was making a pretty good effort to push his lungs out from between his ribs. It didn’t help matters when something began rattling around in the wreckage of whatever had happened on the side of his house. It was distant enough for him to not be able to see what was happening, but not distant enough to put his mind at ease. “Sam, are you dead?” He called out softly.

Shortly thereafter, Sam poked her head cautiously around the side of her car. “Can you see what’s over there?” Her eyes were wide in the dark and Josh wondered if his own were comparable in size. Honestly, his were probably bigger.

“Yeah Sammy, let me just look through the entire right fucking corner of my house. Give me a sec,” he snapped back. Their whispers had gotten so loud, though, that any stealth gained from remaining quiet was likely lost or ineffective.

Even seconds from death, Sam made sure Josh paid for his sarcasm. She threw her keys at him and he cursed a little too loudly before clapping his hands over his mouth. Sam slipped around the corner of her car and remained crouched down with her back pressed against the side paneling. “Why the hell are there boxes on this side of my car?” The question was barely out of her mouth before realization dawned and her wide eyes narrowed in Josh’s direction. “Josh, _seriously?”_

“Sorry,” he laughed, rubbing the spot where her keys had hit his knee. “I didn’t want you to leave.”

“That would be sweet if you weren’t so insufferable,” she muttered, trying to scoot quietly toward him.

Josh held a hand out for her and she took it, pulling herself to his side where he was crouched near the passenger door. “So we agree that I’m sweet?”

“I don’t know, do we agree that you’re insufferable?”

Josh was about to say something along the lines of “most definitely” when something else clanged and shifted from the side of the house. He slammed his back into Sam’s car and jammed a hand over his mouth while Sam flew into his side and clung painfully to his shirt.

“Can’t you be clever a little quieter?” Josh murmured around the hand clapped to his mouth.

Sam didn’t respond, but just clung a little tighter to him. That was all well and good, but there was something that sounded increasingly wendigo-shaped nosing around the side of his house. “Someone’s gotta check it out,” Sam said.

Oh hell no.

“You’re the brave one,” Josh said, abandoning all chivalry in favor of simple survival. If anyone could survive the mystery intruder, it was Sam. She was main character material. At best, Josh was goofy sidekick with a tragic end material.

Sam didn’t seem to share this sentiment. “You’re the tall one,” she returned.

“I’m not tall, you’re just short.”

Sam whined in the back of her throat and worried the fabric of Josh’s shirt between her hands. Hell no. Josh didn’t care how cute she was, he wasn’t some dumb white boy about to be murdered because a cute girl convinced him to check a mysterious noise out. Not fucking likely.

“Maybe it’s just Chris fuckin’ with us,” Josh tried. If he couldn’t even convince himself of that, though, what hope was there of convincing Sam. “Or my weird neighbor.”

“Josh you _are_ the weird neighbor.”

“We’re about to die and you want your final words to be your millionth jab at my ego?” When Sam nodded in the affirmative, Josh wrapped his arm around her so she wasn’t crushing it against his body. “Your commitment inspires me, Sammy.”

Something _hissed_ from the side of the house. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Josh agreed. “Maybe we should both go.”

Sam scoffed. “What, so we can both die?”

Josh gave her a horrified look. “Oh, so you’re convinced that whoever goes to check the noise is going to die and you wanted to send me _anyways_?”

“Let’s focus.”

Their focusing ended up just being more paralyzed clinging and cursing whenever the unidentified monster made a particularly loud noise. After a while, though, Sam started to get that determined look on her face and Josh had to plead with her not to go to her death. It didn’t work.

“We can’t hide behind my car all night,” she insisted, dragging Josh up with her when she stood. “Let’s just go figure out what it is.”

Josh shook his head adamantly. “Sam, we’ve learned that there are _literal_ monsters in the world and you want to go investigate creepy sounds? I vote we make a break for the house and barricade ourselves in until the second ice age.”

“Stop being such a baby,” Sam countered. Her words were brave, but she hadn’t let go of his shirt. If he hadn’t been so goddamn terrified this would have been prime teasing material. This was not the case, though.

Josh continued shaking his head, but his words betrayed him. “When I die, I’m haunting you something fierce, Sam.”

“Whatever. I’ll go around the back and you sneak around the front so we can corner it,” she said, gesturing with her free hand.

“Have you never seen a horror movie? This is literally the worst idea.”

Sam gestured helplessly. “It’s the best we’ve got. I’m the white girl here. If anyone should be scared of their horror movie prospects, it’s me.”

“But I’m the goofy, expendable minority character!” Josh whined. “I’m a goner.”

Finally, Sam released Josh’s shirt and gave his arm a hard jab. “Pull yourself together, would you? Here, uh, let’s find some weapons.”

Now, if Josh was going to follow anyone into battle it was Sam. But Sam’s idea of “finding weapons” involved grabbing the hose from the front of his house, throwing out a huge spool of slack to reach far enough around, and holding it like a gun. “Fucking incredible,” Josh cursed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “We’re going to _hose_ it to death.”

“Correction: I’m going to hose it to death. You’re on your own, buddy.”

The prospect of being without a weapon, even a hose, had Josh backtracking. “Now hold up, that’s _my_ hose. If anybody’s going to hose something to death it’s gonna be me,” he argued, making a grab for it.

Sam dodged him easily, but seemed to consider his argument. “Well, I guess I should give you something. Uh, here, let’s do this.” She dragged an empty planter from its place of abandonment in the ferns next to Josh’s garage and filled it with water from the hose. “You can just kind of…toss it on whatever’s over there,” she explained lamely. “I dunno. It’s the best we’ve got.”

“This is a fucking nightmare.”

In retrospect, of course, creeping along the side of his house with a planter full of water while Sam went the other direction armed with his garden hose was kind of hilarious. At the exact moment of its occurrence, however, it felt at least partially serious. He still felt ridiculous, but the fear was real. Josh Washington versus the monsters of the world, armed with nothing but a pot of water and hands that shook so bad he was in danger of losing that water. If that was how it was going to end, Josh couldn’t bring himself to be more than mildly pissed off about it. What a joke.

Sam had a farther distance to travel around the back of his house, so Josh lingered a few moments near his garage. Besides that, Sam was going to be way more useful against whatever was going on around the side of his house. After a while, though, he knew he had to kick it into gear and get a move on. It took every fiber of courage hiding in his coward’s soul to drag his ass around the side of the house and confront the source of the noises.

Well, nothing killed him. All he could really see was a badly damaged window-well cover and a few knocked over trash bins. Breathing heavily through his nose, Josh crept closer to the scene of the crime, hands slipping nervously on his deadly pot of water. As he got closer, though, he really couldn’t see what had disrupted the bins or ruined the window-well cover. Whatever had been there moments ago was no longer there. The only thing worse than a monster is a monster you’ve lost track of. Without much to show for his venture, Josh continued toward the back of his house. At the very least he had to reunite with Sam and sweep the backyard.

Strangely, when he reached the backyard, Sam was nowhere to be found. There’s no way in hell it should have taken her that long to walk around the side of his house. Josh hummed nervously in the back of his throat and shuffled his feet a bit, willing Sam to materialize in the darkness. “Sam?” He called out quietly.

Now, what exactly is a guy supposed to do when a twig snaps loudly behind him and somebody pops out of the shrubs? Armed with a bucket of water and nerves made of shattered glass, Josh did all he could do: he shrieked and tossed the contents of his bucket at the emerging form.

Josh would’ve had better chances of survival if the emerging form had been a wendigo instead of just Sam.

Sam stood before him, water dripping from her nose and chin, hair plastered down around her skull and gaping in silent fury.

Fuck.

“You scared the shit out of me!” Josh wheezed, dropping the empty planter with a groan. “What the hell? What were you doing back there? Oh my god, I think I’m having a heart attack. Do you know CPR? Tell me you know CPR.”

Josh had approximately two seconds to beg for his life when Sam raised the hose in her hand in an unmistakable killshot. “Woah, woah, woah, Sammy let’s talk about this. If you-“

Whatever pleas Josh was about to make were lost under the roar of the kind of torrential garden hose that only rich assholes could afford. He attempted to protest above the waterfall, but gave up a few seconds into his punishment when he realized how futile it was. After a solid twenty seconds of downpour, Sam relented and Josh was left standing in a huge puddle, his clothes clinging uncomfortably to him in the frigid winter air.

“You done?” He said, water dripping into his eyes and mouth.

Sam seemed to consider the question for a moment. “No.” She turned the hose back on and Josh stood there resignedly for another twenty seconds of drowning on dry land.

When she finally dropped the hose, Josh nodded and shook some of the water from his hair. “Right. Feel better?”

“Kinda.”

Josh smiled sardonically. “Glad I could help.”

Sam grinned back at him and gestured into the bushes where she had emerged. “Found the monster, by the way. It was a cat.”

Swinging his arms a bit, Josh nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. There were a bunch of knocked over trash bins and a broken window-well cover around the side of the house. I’m honestly a little disappointed it wasn’t a monster.”

“I’m not,” Sam said adamantly. “I’m really not.”

Even through the dark and their slight distance, Josh could see Sam shivering in her wet clothes and he couldn’t help the guilt that crawled up his spine. She might have gotten her revenge, but it was still kind of his fault. Okay, it was definitely his fault. He stepped toward her to tell her as much, but Sam seemed to have the same idea. They met halfway, but both ended up slipping slightly in the wet grass. And of course, like some bullshit romantic comedy, they ended up tangled and breathless and clinging to each other for support and way too close and fucking jesus _christ_ would Josh ever get a break.

Or maybe this _was_ god attempting to give him a break.

“Er, you’re shivering,” Josh pointed out dumbly.

This was going great.

“Yeah, you dumped a bucket of water on me.”

Sam’s hand on his chest wasn’t helping at all with his heart attack. Seriously, he hoped she knew CPR because things were about to get deadly. Not in a sexy way. Josh was going to die.

“You’re really pretty,” Josh found himself blurting out.

Honestly? It was like his mouth _wanted_ him to fail.

“Uh, you’re really soggy,” she returned and _shit_ she thought he was being sarcastic. His reputation preceded him in the worst possible way and in the worst possible moments.

“Also, I’m in love with you,” he choked out. “Just thought you should know.”

Some rational part of Josh’s brain was shaking its head in horror at him. The amount of second-hand embarrassment that his heart gave his brain was approaching the levels at which complete neural breakdown were likely. If this was god giving him a break, it felt more like a broken arm than a break in luck.

Instead of looking completely mortified, though, Sam just looked _kind_ of mortified. But amused. Amused was good, right? Or was he just that laughable? Fuck, sincerity was hard. Would she just say something already? How long had it been since he’d told her he loved her? One minute? Two minutes? Sixty years? He had no idea. Would he just hurry up and die already?

His mouth started saying words for whatever reason. Fucking traitor. “But I get if you, like, uh, don’t love me and stuff, I’m honestly pretty terrible. And I uh, kind of chased you around mostly naked while wearing a clown mask so that was pretty fucked up. But I thought you should know anyways, because it’s kind of hard not to blurt it out every time you call me dumb, or look at me, or exist. Or like, earlier at that banquet when you were putting that chair together wrong and it looked like some horrible monstrosity for aliens to sit in and for some reason that made me fall even more in love with you? So I’m not sure if I’m losing my mind or if I even have any left to lose or whatever, but you told me in your car that I make you feel better but I gotta tell you right here right now as god is my unwilling witness that you don’t just make me _feel_ better, you _make_ me better and I’ll never be normal or easy to deal with and I’m always going to be afraid of myself and afraid that people are afraid of me, but you should just kind of…know all that garbage I just said. So uh, thanks for that. And thanks for climbing through my window that one time because I was afraid to see you and afraid to see everyone and afraid to attempt being alive again, but where I wasn’t so sure before you climbed through my window, I’m one hundred percent fuckin positive now that I’m _so_ glad those rangers pulled me out of those mines. And I’m sorry I fell in love with you because that puts you in a really weird situation and I’m sorry you have nightmares about me and I’m sorry I dumped a bucket of water on your head and also you’re _really_ pretty and make me super nervous sometimes like right now.”

Yeah.

Josh didn’t mean to brag, but how many people can really say that their confession was truly the most abhorrent, embarrassing pile of words that ever existed?

One of Sam’s eyebrows had crept up toward her hairline during his horrific speech, but she otherwise made no effort to run away or kill him or stop him, so…well, what exactly did that mean? Josh had no idea. His brain had definitely packed its suitcase and left with the children in the night, so his heart was flying blind here. Part of him thought it would be impossible to look at her, but it was actually quite the opposite.

“I don’t have nightmares about you,” Sam said quietly and Josh wanted to scream. _This is not the most important issue on the table right now, Samantha_.

Instead of screaming, Josh forced himself to blink, because he realized he hadn’t done enough of that in the last few minutes. Sam’s hands tightened around his shirt and she sighed, like she’d suddenly remembered that it was six in the morning and some idiot who had dumped a bucket of water on her head was trying to tell her that he was head over heels for her. It sounded pretty exhausting.

“You should,” Josh croaked out. “I have nightmares about me.”

“Well I don’t,” Sam said simply. “I’m the brave one remember?” She teased; voice quiet and reverent like Josh hadn’t completely ruined any sense of delicacy between them. “Or was I the short one? I don’t recall.”

If Josh had fucked things up that badly, then why on god’s green earth were they so close? Sam was giving him that weird look again, but it was muted and easy, almost practiced, like Josh had frequently been about to kiss her in the past and she was used to it.

Oh, right. _That_ was the look. Righto, gotcha. Was he always that obvious?

“So, uh, this is the part where I kiss you right?” He laughed and instead of sounding casual he sounded incredibly juvenile. Fucking figures.

“Well, it’s not exactly The Notebook, but we’re both wet, so go for it,” she said and it came out like a challenge, whispered between the shrinking space between them.

“I know this is like the worst possible time to make a sex joke, but honestly-“ Sam had pulled back slightly to give him a look that just _dared_ him to finish that sentence, so Josh panicked. Before she could change her mind he just fucking went for it. In the long list of things he had just kind of went for in his life, this one turned out by far the best. Yeah, they were both kind of cold and clammy, and Josh’s heart had long ago pummeled itself into an early grave, but Sam kissed him like he was worthwhile, so how bad was it _really?_

Not at all.

The answer was not at all.

Sam pulled away first, hands slung up behind his neck, and she pressed her forehead up to his. “Hey,” she whispered, stroking the back of his neck with one of her fingers like it was no big deal and Josh wasn’t about to explode. He fought the urge to chase after her mouth and focused on producing words instead.

“Hey what?” Josh was grinning like a complete idiot and was in desperate need of medical attention of the cardiologist variety.

She was smiling too. “Your neighbor’s staring at us,” she snickered, eyes flicking to the side, somewhere behind him.

“Wait, really?” He spun around, holding Sam back out at arm’s length. Sure enough, his nosy, obsessive hedge-trimming neighbor was standing awkwardly in her bathrobe, gripping a coffee cup and trying to appear like she hadn’t seen anything. “Er, hello?” Josh managed. Even though he wasn’t looking at Sam, he could feel her badly suppressed laughter shaking through where his hands gripped her shoulders. “Nice evening out, no?” He added.

His neighbor nodded slowly in agreement, but her eyes screamed ‘ _I saw you making out and am unsure of how to move past that’_. She cleared her throat politely and stared at some point to the far right of Josh’s head. “Just out looking for my cat. You haven’t seen a stray cat have you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know I’ve been a bit preoccupied,” Josh said, a little more venomously than was strictly necessary. “How about you, Sammy? Seen a cat around here? Oh, wait, she was preoccupied too. But you already knew that.”

The hedge neighbor looked supremely embarrassed, but Sam just laughed, and nudged Josh out of her line of sight. “I think I scared him out of the bushes,” Sam said kindly. Josh kept one hand on her shoulder, afraid that if he released her she would go gallivanting off with his hedge neighbor in search of cats and he wasn’t _nearly_ finished with her. “He ran back into your yard, though.”

Nodding stiffly, his neighbor thanked them and disappeared back into her property, off to ruin someone else’s poorly timed confessions no doubt. “I hate her,” Josh declared, one hand on his hip and the other keeping Sam close to his side. “I really do.”

“That’s not nice,” Sam chastised, waving a friendly goodbye when his neighbor disappeared from view. “Besides, she didn’t really interrupt. I had to tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Sam said gently. “You don’t have to be.”

Josh narrowed his eyes and glanced over to where she was pinned to his side. “I’m confused. Are you forgiving me for dumping water on your head or are you telling me you’re in love with me?”

“Well,” Sam said slowly, “I definitely haven’t forgiven you for the water thing.”

“Oh, don’t mind me I’ll just fill in the gaps. It’s not like I just horribly embarrassed myself in front of you, god, and my neighbor.” He was joking, though. Well, not about the embarrassment. In all honesty, he didn’t need Sam to say anything. The fact that she hadn’t left him standing there with his heart in his hands like a desperate fool was enough. Josh released her from his side and motioned for her to follow him. “C’mon, Sammy. Let’s go inside before the hypothermia sets in.” He stopped a few paces away when Sam didn’t follow him. She had a look of slight consternation, like she was having difficulty with something. “What’s the holdup?”

“I _do_ love you, you know that right? Like, in a non-sarcastic way?” She muttered, clenching the fabric of her sweater in her hands. “You’re an idiot. And you have terrible ideas. But…well, I dunno. You’re my idiot, I guess.”

“Okay, my confession was _way_ nicer,” Josh laughed, repeating his motion for her to follow him. “But we can argue the finer points from inside a heated home. I’ll let you borrow some clothes, so hurry up. Your idiot is freezing to death.”

Sam skipped a few paces to catch up and they headed for the warmth of the Washington home in an easy silence, reminiscent of days spent arguing about movies and environmental politics over the heads of his sisters. “So like, on a scale from one to ten, how sleazy would it be if I asked you to stay the night?” Josh asked.

Sam tapped her finger against her chin for a moment. “One to ten? I’d say a solid Mike Munroe.”

“Twelve out of ten? That bad, huh?”

“Oh, c’mon. Mike’s like an eight and a half out of ten at the worst.”

Josh snorted. “Okay, still pretty sleazy though.”

When they reached the relative comfort of his house, he dug out a few towels for them and some dry clothes and they sat around picking at the leftovers of Chris’s casserole. Eventually Sam broke the comfortable silence, gesturing with her fork when she spoke. “So on a scale of one to ten, how sleazy would it be if I accepted your offer?”

Josh swallowed a bite of casserole without choking somehow and visibly weighed the question. “Well, see, now our Mike estimations aren’t in synch so I’m not really sure how to accurately measure this anymore. I’m also super biased because I’d much rather sleep in a bed tonight that has you in it.”

Sam heaved a mighty sigh, but was unable to suppress a pleased smile. “Fine. No funny business, though. I’m tired as hell.”

“All of my business is funny, Sammy. I’m hilarious.”

Sam smiled sweetly at him and he knew he was in for it. "Your confession definitely was."

"Why must you hurt me like this."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they are just...so dumb?
> 
> in other news, this story has surpassed the first harry potter book in length so i have no fucking life anymore i guess. not bad for a little over a month. one more chapter to go.
> 
> [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUCV9R_Wp0k) song is a pretty good jam for this story (and my life tbh).
> 
> enjoy the rest of your week, friends. cheers.


	16. good enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the gold standard for recovering disappointments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter lengths are out of control.
> 
> well, finally im done and can go crawl back into my hole and die.
> 
> oh by the way, mild content warning for referenced suicide.
> 
> enjoy the final chapter of whatever the hell this has been.

 

**1 YEAR AND SEVERAL HUNDRED BAD IDEAS LATER**

* * *

 

 

Something akin to a looming responsibility was tickling at the back of Josh’s sleep-addled mind but he couldn’t quite bring himself to latch onto it or even make an effort to do so. He hadn’t cared much for that sort of thing in more than twenty-one years, so why start now. Besides, he had actually slept that night and he wasn’t about to ruin those rare blessings. But the fact that he was already conscious of the fact that he didn’t want to be conscious meant that he had more or less already ruined everything. He wasn’t awake per say, but he had enough awareness to be approaching that unfortunate status.

Maybe he could just kinda…slip back into oblivion.

He made a noble effort to reenter the void until something ran a hand up the length of his chest and landed somewhere near his neck. What the fuck.

He was probably about to be murdered by an alien or something, but had he _really_ breached the threshold of “worth it” when it came to being awake?

No.

He increased his efforts to fall back asleep until something sighed against his neck and okay what the fuck. Can’t a guy get his responsibility-shirking on in peace?

Josh peeled an eyelid open and glared down at the intruder. But the intruder was, like, really cute and still asleep so Josh didn’t shove her away. That would’ve been a little rude. Also, as his brain scrambled to put itself back together, he distinctly remembered that it was his fault Sam hadn’t made it home the previous night. Mental high five.

Blinking up at his ceiling, Josh ran his free hand down his face. He really needed to shave. His other arm had completely lost circulation, but if he tried to move it he would have dumped Sam’s head on the mattress. Also a little rude. Josh was a team player, kind of. He could at least appreciate that one of them deserved to not be awake. So he just let his arm suffer in numb, buzzing silence. And okay, maybe it wasn’t complete suffering. Josh wasn’t some gross sappy romantic, thrilled by quiet domestic scenes or stupid stuff like someone’s hand resting on your heart. Definitely not. But…okay, whatever shut up.

Gross stuff like that would’ve gotten Josh out of therapy a hell of a lot quicker, but he had some principles to stand by. If he admitted to being smitten by anything the good doc would have cut him some slack, but it was never going to happen.

Wait, _shit_.

The tickling sense of ignored responsibility hit him like a derailed freight train. That is to say, something you would never expect to happen and completely expect to happen all at the same time.

Josh was supposed to be at therapy that morning. Slowly he turned his head to look at the grimly glowing lights of his alarm clock to find that he had a grand total of eighteen minutes to make an appearance at the doc’s office.

“Fuck!” Josh sat bolt upright in bed, twisted violently, and toppled over the side of his mattress face first. Even in the confusion of his fall, Josh heard a distinctly ruffled Sam grunt unhappily as her head was dropped on the mattress. Josh had no time to feel bad about that. He had no time to do anything really. He hardly even had time to get to Dr. Van Washington’s office. Sidenote: calling someone by your own last name was weird, so Josh had to improvise a bit.

Flinging clothes from his drawers and hopping around, he nearly ate shit again when he tried to put his shoes on before his pants and got stuck. Sam was grumbling something about rude wakeup calls, but Josh wasn’t really paying attention. He put his shirt on backwards and then sideways, which he hadn’t even been sure was possible. Also his pants were inside out. Honestly, what the fuck.

Josh tried to pull his pants off to fix the situation but ended up tripping and slamming his knee into the base of his bed. Sam started at the sudden contact and propped herself up on her elbows to give him a baleful look.

“That bad, huh?” She muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Josh looked up from his wardrobe disaster and stared at her like she was speaking a different language. That bad?

“Oh, no, you were great. I’m super fuckin’ late for my appointment. God, I knew I was forgetting something yesterday.” Josh cursed as he tried to figure out how pants are supposed to look before they are able to go correctly on a person’s body. Being half asleep was worse than being half drunk.

“You’re damn right I am,” Sam said, flopping back onto his pillow.

When Josh had managed to fix his pants, he put his shoes on the wrong feet and cursed some more. “Why do we buy two different kinds of shoes. Can’t they just be one size fits all?”

Sam rolled over and yawned. “You have two different feet, Josh.”

“What would I do without you, Sammy?” He was a little preoccupied by rearranging his shoes to the proper feet and fixing his shirt, but he was pretty sure he heard her mutter “perish” under her breath. There was no proof, but he would have bet on it.

 

Eventually he rearranged his clothes so they were on correctly and said a quick goodbye to Sam. She was mostly asleep by that point, though, so it went unacknowledged. He skipped down the last few steps and hurtled in the kitchen where he was planning on grabbing something quick to eat. Strangely, there was a plate of eggs and toast on the kitchen counter when he got there and nobody in sight to claim it. Josh wasn’t one much for questioning the origins of food, but the situation was a little strange. Josh’s parents were both supposed to be out of town and Sam was comatose upstairs, so either someone had broken into his home to make him breakfast or he had cooked a full meal in his sleep. These were both troubling possibilities.

Either way, he didn’t have time to be picky. Burglar food or sleepwalking food, it was all food in the end. Josh shrugged and shoveled some of it in his mouth while he searched around for his keys. It wasn’t that Josh was comfortable driving yet, but, once again, he really didn’t have time to be picky. In a surprisingly gymnastic move, Josh pulled the refrigerator door open with his foot and scanned the contents for something to drink. His only real option ended up being a carton of milk with a questionable expiration date. Josh balanced what little remained of the plate of food in one hand and grabbed the milk carton. When he slammed the fridge closed with his foot, though, there was a person on the other side of the fridge door.

Josh accidentally inhaled a lungful of eggs and nearly fell over backwards at the sudden presence of his father. Mr. Washington was giving him an odd sort of look, but came forward to pat Josh’s back as he tried to clear his lungs of invasive breakfast food. It was a close call, but Josh managed not to die and nodded appreciatively at his father for his contribution.

“Thanks,” Josh wheezed.

Mr. Washington nodded sadly. “You ate my breakfast.” He was giving Josh’s plate a mournful look. Mystery solved.

“Er, sorry Dad. I kind of, um, thought burglars made it or something,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Burglars?” Mr. Washington was clearly still mourning the loss of his eggs and continued patting Josh’s back in distracted disappointment. Josh tried to hand the plate back to his father, but Mr. Washington shook his head. “It’s fine. You never eat enough anyways.”

“Thanks Dad.” Heading back over to the counter, Josh considered retrieving a glass instead of drinking from the milk carton, but he didn’t have time to try and convince his dad he was a functional adult. No, Josh just took a swig from the carton and shoveled more food in his mouth. “I thought you were out of town. You scared me to death.”

The sun filtered happily through the window above the sink while Mr. Washington put the skillet back on and clicked the gas burner to life underneath it. “Oh yeah, sorry about that. I’m heading out again soon, I just came back to get a few things late last night.

Late last night? Hopefully _very_ late last night.

Josh decided to play it cool and hummed his acknowledgment while he continued eating his dad’s stolen food. Let it not be said that Mr. Washington wasn’t a good cook. Josh himself was actually a pretty good cook when he had the motivation. Which was essentially never, but the fact remained.

“Um, there’s a…” Mr. Washington faded out and glanced back at Josh awkwardly. “Um.”

Josh raised an eyebrow at his father and put the milk carton back on the counter. “There’s a what?”

Fiddling with the spatula in his hand, Mr. Washington glanced back and forth between the ceiling and Josh’s eyes. “Uh, well, I couldn’t help but notice that there’s…well, there was a _girl_ in your room – er, more specifically your bed. And, well uh, I wasn’t trying to pry or anything but I just- see, uh, was that Sam?”

Josh’s eyes went wide and he dropped his fork back on the plate. “There’s a _girl_ in my room?” He gasped. “Since when?”

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Washington backtracked, holding his hands up defensively. “I’m not accusing you of anything. No need to be like that. I just, oh jesus, you’re gonna make me say this aren’t you?” Yes, Josh absolutely was. If he was about to die of embarrassment, he was taking his dad down with him. Josh remained silent, daring him to continue. “Fine. I’m still not accusing you or anything, but you guys are being safe and stuff, right?” He muttered.

“What are you saying?” Josh snickered, grinning at his fidgeting father.

Sighing irritably, his father turned back to the stove to hide his embarrassment. “Nothing. You’re an adult. I’m just saying that you’re not as sneaky as you think you are. Neither of you are.”

Josh laughed and pushed away from his plate. “Then I guess there’s nothing I need to tell you. You’re right. Me and Sam are up to no good, as usual.”

Mr. Washington shot him a glare over his shoulder with an exasperated, parental sigh. “I’m serious, Josh.”

So was Josh. “I _am_ serious, Dad. We’re no good.”

“Oh, have it your way.” He stirred the contents of the skillet in frustrated silence while Josh scooped up his keys and jacket. “Today’s your first day isn’t it?” He asked after a while, fixing a new plate of food. “You’re starting school again, right?”

Yeah, that was a thing. Josh had managed six months without a major meltdown and had let himself get talked into some courses at the community college. He had been doing alright for himself in a few of the local theatres and venues as an electrician and technology aid, but if he ever wanted to move up from stage lighting and cable running then he was going to need certification.

Six months without a meltdown. This led Josh to start gathering up some of the scattered pieces of his life and gluing them together in a slipshod attempt at being functional. Sam had gone back to school the previous semester and he would’ve been lying if he’d said it hadn’t made him feel like it was time to catch up. Sam didn’t pressure him into it, but he didn’t want to be left behind.

But really, things were okay. He liked the numbing intricacy of running lights and sound equipment. Even the long nights spent in acoustically crushing concert halls with nothing but several hundred miles of cables and a mental map of a requested show had become comfortable. It paid alright and he had been told he did good work. Nobody ever dreams of being a backstage shadow their whole life, but Josh felt like maybe that was a good place for him to be. But tech school was a good next step, so Josh forced his foot forward.

“Uh, yeah I have an afternoon class today,” Josh said quietly. He was actually kind of nervous. Few people will ever tell you how difficult expanding your world can be after spending years caving it in on itself. “I’m surprised you remembered,” he added.

Mr. Washington shrugged. “Of course I remembered. It’s a big deal. You’ve worked really hard to get yourself back on track. I’m…well, I’m really proud of you.” He said it while staring down at his food, like he was afraid he’d be made fun of for the statement. But the openness and sincerity of it all stayed Josh’s usual discomfort with complements.

“Thanks, Dad.” And he meant it.

With one foot out the door, Josh suddenly remembered his journal. Ah shit, he’d promised to bring it with him to the appointment. Cursing quietly, he dashed back up to his room and began tossing items around in pursuit of the damn thing.

“I thought you left,” Sam said quizzically. She was still in his bed, but looked slightly more awake.

Josh made a vaguely distressed noise and began searching under his bed. “I’m trying to leave, but I can’t find that damn journal. I’m supposed to bring it with me.”

Sam leaned over the side of the bed to watch him and pointed toward the other end of the mattress. “I think you dropped it down that side.”

Sure enough, Josh located it according to Sam’s hint. “Shit, thanks Sammy.” He looked up at her and grinned. “Oh yeah, by the way my dad’s downstairs and he totally thinks we’re fucking. So you can either enjoy that awkward encounter or, like, sneak out my window like a promiscuous teenage boy. Your call.”

Sam snorted and gave him an amused look. “Okay, but we kind of are.”

“Haha, yeah totally.” Josh derived enormous pleasure from the fact that Sam was completely ready to high-five him before he had even finished raising his hand. Hell fucking yes.

He would have gladly sat around all day high-fiving Sam and making sex jokes at his poor father’s expense, but he had a therapist to appease. Thankfully, he made it to the appointment with both himself and his car in good shape. Gotta be thankful for those little things. With Josh and cars, safe arrivals were never a guarantee.

Dr. Van Washington was waiting for him patiently behind his expensive looking desk without a trace of accusation on his face. Josh was more than twenty minutes late, but the doc acted like he was right on time. “I’m glad you came,” he said warmly. “I admit I’ve started looking forward to our time together.”

This fucking guy.

“Aw, doc, if you’re falling in love with me just come out and say it. No secrets between us, right?” Josh dropped into one of the heavily cushioned armchairs across from him with a cheeky grin.

“See?” He laughed. “This is why I enjoy our time together. You’re a character, Josh.”

Josh nodded thoughtfully. “I like that. A _character_.”

His therapist’s voice was smooth and warm like a low burning fire on a cold night and Josh settled into the familiar therapeutic quality of completely ignoring the content of his words. He just nodded agreeably every few seconds and hoped that none of the words had formed a question that required his answer.

Today was a big day. Josh was going to go to class like a normal, happy-go-lucky sap and Mike was getting his one-year sobriety coin. Little did Mike know, but they all had big plans for later. That was, of course, if Mike didn’t die of embarrassment first. There was no guarantee he would survive the ordeal. But what better way to celebrate a year of accomplishment than with an untimely demise.

“Josh?”

“Yes,” Josh answered, guessing wildly. “Yes I agree.”

Nodding happily, the therapist continued his outward musings and Josh returned to his thoughts. Hopefully he hadn’t agreed to anything too horrible. When was Dr. Van Washington going to ask him about the journal? Josh had actually worked really hard on that over the last year. Every time he had been asked to show it to the doc, though, Josh hadn’t been ready. But today was a new chapter, and it made him want to close the old one. The journal felt like part of that old chapter, so he figured it was okay to finally show him.

God, he was tired. He had been up way too late. Turns out watching episodes four, five, and six of Star Wars in a row the night before starting school was a bad idea. Not that they had particularly paid attention to the latter half of the sixth episode. Josh’s mind flashed back to wandering hands, a somersaulting stomach, a pleasant weight in his lap. Sam whispered something in his ear unfit to say out loud even for the purposes of fictional narration.

“Josh?”

Fucking hell. Josh jumped like he’d been walked in on in his own brain.

“Er, yes. I also agree with that,” he stuttered, wiping his palms on his pants. Pull it together, dude. “Good point.”

Dr. Van Washington hid a grin behind his hand and wrote something on a small pad of notebook paper. “You alright there, Josh?”

“Super". It was like his voice wasn’t even attempting to sound like he hadn’t just been having unfortunately timed flashbacks.

“Oh, well, I didn’t mean to accuse you of not being alright. It’s just that you’ve told me you agreed to several of my open-ended questions, none of which required simple yes’s or no’s or agreements or disagreements.” Even though he had just caught Josh being an asshole again, Dr. Van Washington was still smiling. “Something on your mind?”

Nope.

They might have agreed to no secrets between them but Josh didn’t kiss and tell. Or anything along those lines. “I’m just a little nervous about going back to school,” he lied. Well, it wasn’t lying. It was true.

“Yes, that can be scary,” his therapist agreed. “I was terrified to go back after I took two years off. It felt like I’d taken a step off the world while it kept turning. I was afraid that by the time I stepped back on it I wouldn’t recognize anything anymore,” he mused, tapping his pen against the notepad on his knee. “Once you feel you’ve fallen behind, you wonder if it’s worth catching up at all.”

Man, there was a reason this dude charged a fortune. “Uh, yeah. That’s actually exactly how I feel,” Josh said, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t know you dropped out of school.”

His therapist shrugged and opened his arms disarmingly. “Sometimes we need to take a break. If you don’t stop to put yourself together once in a while, you might go your whole life thinking you have to be in pieces all the time.” He fell quiet while Josh stared at the battered spines of the hundreds of leather-bound books lining the towering bookshelves around them. Not one of them was dusty. Josh liked to think that instead of just having a very good housekeeper, the doc actually pulled them out and perused them frequently while the various framed posters of overrated rock stars grinned down at him. He seemed like the type.

Josh wanted to say something like “thanks” or “I’m not sure I could’ve put myself back together without you”, but instead he said, “huh. Is that so.”

“I think it might be,” his therapist returned gently.

They fell into thoughtful silence, which felt like the end of something. Not in a bad way. Dr. Van Washington hadn’t fallen silent in over a year, but it was like he had said all he wanted to say. Josh couldn’t imagine why, but it made him sad. His throat ached and the journal seemed to pulse in his hands, alive and sharing his emotions. It hadn’t been said, but Josh had the feeling that the doc was releasing him like a naturalist might release a wounded animal back into the wild after doing all he could for it. The thing about that, though, is that those guys are never sure if the released animals will even last the night afterwards. There’s only so much you can do and then it’s just nature’s call. Nature can be a bit of a bitch sometimes, though.

“You brought your journal,” his therapist observed, pulling them out of their meaningful silence. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to see it.”

Wordlessly, Josh held it out for him. Even though his therapist made no move to take it, Josh continued holding it out to him.

“What did you write about? Cute girls?”

Josh’s arm was getting tired from holding it out, but he kept his elbow firmly locked. “Nope.” For emphasis, Josh gave the journal a little shake, but the doc still didn’t reach for it.

Dr. Van Washington cocked his head to the side and leaned back in his chair even further from the journal. “Why do you want me to see it?” He asked, like he hadn’t been the damn one to assign it.

“I don’t know?” Josh stared down at the faded and scratched cover. “You’re the one who wanted me to write it. Isn’t this supposed to prove that I’m…well, _better_ or something?”

“Are you better?” It was a neutral question, hinting at nothing, open and pure.

Was he better?

Better was such a nuanced word. He wasn’t better in the sense that he was cured. But things _were_ better. They had improved. He went whole days without making a secretly genuine statement regarding his wish to get hit by a car or something. He looked forward to things. He was less afraid.

Josh shrugged and pulled the diary back to his chest. “Sometimes.”

His therapist nodded and gestured at the diary. “Did it help?”

Humming in consideration, Josh crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Maybe. I think it might’ve helped me help myself, if that makes sense.”

Dr. Van Washington beamed at him and released a long, satisfied sigh before tucking his pen back into the pocket of his shirt. “It makes sense,” he assured him.

And that was it.

His therapist didn’t even read the damn thing.

Sometimes it’s the strangest things in your life that make the most sense, though. What would the journal even mean to his therapist? It was nonsense to anyone else. The pages contained a couple of average people who had experienced a couple of extraordinary things and coped in a bunch of average ways. The sum of its pages were just bits of eight different lives. A couple hundred lessons. A couple hundred sacrifices. Overall: mundane. In sum: extraordinary.

Josh tucked the journal into the interior pocket of his jacket.

“Will you come back?”

For once in his life, Josh didn’t feel like he’d been asked a question that had a correct answer. It was genuine curiosity. Dr. Van Washington was releasing him from his care if he wanted to be released. Nobody was breathing down his neck to fix himself. Trust was really fucking terrifying.

Josh stared down at his hands. “I think I will,” he said honestly.

And he did.

Some people stay in your life longer than you ever anticipate they will. But like most things, that’s a choice.

After his departure, Josh felt like he’d finished serving a thirty year sentence only to be dropped at a bus station with $40 and a bus pass to wherever the fuck he wanted to go. Terrifying. But amazing. Josh could do anything with that money and freedom. He could go drink himself into a stupor at the first bar he could find. He could go home and hug his dumb family. He could go buy a gun and blow his brains out the roof of his car. He could invest. He could give it to the first sad fucker he found on the street, lost and unsure of what to do with his own $40 and bus pass.

Or he could do nothing at all.

Yeah, possibilities were terrifying. But mostly, Josh decided he’d just keep on keepin’ on. Maybe next week he’d go listen to the good doc talk for an hour and slip into a pleasant haze. Maybe he’d buy Chris that new phone he wanted with the contract money from the last show he did the soundboard for. Maybe he’d take Sam to that lake he and his dad used to fish for carp on out in Wisconsin. The maybes were good enough not to even think about the what-ifs.

Josh had just enough time between his appointment and his class to stop back home and grab a few things. When he walked in the door, Sam and Chris were just chilling in his kitchen like they paid rent or some shit.

“No, please, make yourselves at home,” Josh sighed as he dropped his keys on the counter and kicked his shoes off.

Chris gave him a wave, but made no effort to explain his presence there. Sam had apparently decided that the embarrassment of interacting with his father wasn’t enough to drive her out of his bedroom window.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Josh asked, wandering over to see what the two of them were up to.

Chris grinned at him. “They grow up so fast,” he crooned, placing both of his hands over his heart. “It feels like just yesterday he was trying to kill us. And now he’s off to school. Our little boy.”

Sam joined Chris and leaned against him, arms crossed fondly. “He’s grown so much,” she agreed. “We raised him well.”

Oh, fuck them.

“F-fuck off,” Josh stuttered, pulling his hood up to hide the traitorous color flushing the tops of his ears. Goddamnit.

“I’m getting emotional,” Chris continued, throwing an arm around Sam’s shoulders while they admired their embarrassed son. That analogy would have been less fucked up if he hadn’t been sleeping with one of his “proud parents”. But whatever.

Josh dropped down into one of the chairs at the counter and pulled his hood tighter around his head to hide his shame. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do than harass me?”

Chris shrugged. “Not really. How about you, Sam? Any big plans?”

“Not particularly. If I did, embarrassing Josh would still be at the top of my list of priorities.”

Josh had no doubt that was true.

Before they could make fun of the stupid face he was making, Josh set his forehead down on the counter and waited for them to stop being horrible people. He was probably going to be waiting for a while.

“Actually,” Chris said, snapping his fingers, “we do have plans tonight. You didn’t forget about Mike’s one year did you bro? You’re the one who said we had to do something.”

Josh shook his head against the counter. “Don’t worry dude, I’ve got it covered. All you have to do is be here at ten. Gather the troops. We march at eleven.”

With that vague threat, Josh swept out of the kitchen to gather a few school-relevant items from his desk. What did people even take to class? Paper? Rulers? A fresh towel? Josh hadn’t even gotten to his class yet and he was failing.

Fuck it, Josh just grabbed a notebook and a handful of pens. He had no idea what to expect out of tech school. Certainly it wasn’t going to be much like high school. Hopefully he could figure it out along the way.

When he got back downstairs Sam and Chris still had those shit-eating grins plastered on their dumb faces. They were standing side by side and Chris was holding a brown paper bag.

“W-What?” Josh asked defensively, approaching the gleeful idiots with caution.

Chris shrugged. “Nothing dude. Here, made you lunch for your first day.”

Narrowing his eyes, Josh accepted the sack lunch with trepidation. “Thanks,” he said slowly. “Just like kindergarten. Very thoughtful and demeaning.”

Chris’s face fell and he shook his head violently. “Dude, I’m serious. It’s awesome that you’re doing this. You’re a fucking champ, bro,” he insisted. Sam was nodding encouragingly from Chris’s side and Josh could feel his stupid ears getting red again. Oh fuck, those morons were serious.

“Uh, yeah. It’s…um, it’s w-whatever,” he laughed. Oh yeah, real fucking smooth. “It’s just school.” Time to beat a hasty retreat before he could stutter again like a nincompoop.

Josh grabbed his keys and shoved the offensively thoughtful lunch under his arm before making his getaway to the front door. He didn’t quite make it before Chris cornered him and pulled him into a bear hug, nearly lifting him clean off the ground. When he finally convinced Chris to put him down, Sam grabbed the collar of his jacket and planted a kiss on his cheek. Ugh. Meddling friends.

Several minutes and childish protests later and Josh managed to escape to the safety of his car. He would have taken a moment to collect himself and mentally prepare for driving and school, but Chris and Sam came out to wave at him like a bunch of assholes so he had to drive away quickly.

The campus itself was small. It was just some small community college with the right certification program. Josh wasn’t really a school kind of guy, but he needed to get through it before he could become his own contractor. The class was also small. So was the instructor when it came right down to it. She was a spunky Jamaican woman with three missing fingers, which she proudly attributed to some wild story involving broken hydraulics and a motorcycle gang.

Small was good. Small was manageable. Josh was able to focus through the whole lesson even though it was mostly introduction stuff and some basics. It sounded like it was going to be a pretty hands-on class, which was more than okay in Josh’s opinion. Sitting at a desk too long was pretty difficult for him.

After class, Josh sat outside under a budding tree and ate his embarrassing lunch. Begrudgingly he admitted to his own protesting brain that it was pretty damn good. Chris was a good cook. A complete dick. But a good cook.

Before leaving campus, Josh met with his advisor and took care of some disability services stuff and scheduling issues – all that great boring shit that comes with the educational system. The whole experience felt so normal that Josh had to keep looking over his shoulder for something to go wrong. As far as the population of Northwestern Community College was concerned, though, Josh was just any other student. Weird.

He was exhausted from being normal, but by the time he got home he was in a surprisingly decent mood. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon and the nights were still chilly, reminiscent of the steep winter they had just crawled out of. In his driveway, Josh turned the engine off and sat in his car for a few moments. Forward movement. What a strange feeling.

He snapped out of it when he caught sight of his stupid neighbor staring at him from her mailbox. She startled a bit when she realized she’d been caught staring and waved meekly in his direction. For all of the hell Josh had put that poor woman through, he finally waved back without doing something terrible. No, he just waved. She seemed startled by his friendly response, and smiled happily to herself before slipping back into her house. Josh snorted into the silence of his car. Yeah, normal was definitely weird.

The car was quickly becoming a little too cold for comfort, so Josh hauled himself out of the driver’s seat and shuffled inside. It was dark in the entryway and kitchen and his dad’s keys were absent from their hook, so he had likely left again for the foreseeable future. Standing in the entryway, Josh contemplated the shadowy corners of his house and was glad to find that he wasn’t scared. Maybe he _was_ better. Shadows were more frequently cast by furniture and powered off light bulbs than his own imagination those days. Good enough, right? Perhaps _that_ was what “better” meant: good enough.

Nobody pulled off “good enough” quite like Josh Washington.

Further into his darkened home, Josh located Sam slumped on his couch with a bowl of cereal and some old western movie. Without a word, Josh dropped down next to her and turned the volume up on the television. He secretly enjoyed the fact that Sam just kind of made herself at home wherever she went. Although, she spent enough time at the Washington household that it wasn’t even abnormal anymore.

“Your family owns shitty cereal, Josh,” she remarked after a few minutes, stirring the contents of her bowl sadly. “This is more punishment than cereal.”

See, this was exactly why he loved her. “Yeah, you’re telling me. I’d avoid that in the future if I were you.”

Abandoning the punishment cereal, Sam rested her head lightly on Josh’s shoulder and watched some guy jump out of a window onto his horse. “How was class?”

Josh hummed. “Normal, I guess. My instructor only has seven fingers. She seems trustworthy.”

“I wasn’t aware those two things were related.”

Josh shrugged. “Guess I learned more than I thought today.”

Sam just shook her head against his shoulder before falling into companionable silence again. It was a toss up for Josh between wanting nothing more than to fall asleep on the couch with Sam and some static-filled western rattling on in the background, and wanting to follow through with his plans for that night. In reality, he didn’t really have a choice anymore. Everybody would be at his house soon so it was too late to bail – not that he was planning on it, because this was too good to pass up.

“Josh?”

“Yeah what’s up.”

“Eh, I don’t know.”

Josh glanced over at the top of her head. “But you know everything.”

“Not really. Just most things.”

Considering the grayscale movie in front of him, Josh wrapped his pinky finger around hers. “So what’s this one thing that you _don’t_ know?”

“Well, it’s just…we’re, like, _better_ right?”

There was that word again. “Better,” Josh echoed. “I’m not sure how to use that word. I want to say no? But I think we’re _different_. And considering how we were before, that has to count for something.” He paused and laughed to himself. “No, seriously, we were pretty fucked up.”

Sam tightened her hold on his finger. “And what, now we’re not?”

“Hell no. One of the first things I thought about when my therapist told me I didn’t have to come back anymore was that I could go buy a gun and blow my brains out if I really wanted to.” It felt weird saying it, but also right. It wasn’t that he thought Sam would ditch him if he ever mentioned the occasional casual desire to die, but it always felt like too much of a downer to vocalize. She maybe suspected or inferred as much, but it was a weird thing to say out loud. Kinda helped in a way. Kinda hurt too.

Sam flinched a little, but kept her hold on him. She didn’t have to say that she felt some of the same things that he did, because they both twitched in their sleep and they both took pills with every meal and they both laughed when they shouldn’t sometimes. Those things said more than any stinted conversation about scars and nightmares and clinical evaluations ever could. What would have been the point of that anyways.

Josh let out a long sigh. “But _some_ things are different. Good enough, right?”

“But, you’re, uh…not going to go buy a gun and off yourself, right?” She asked timidly. “That’s not a thing that’s going to happen is it?”

“No. I don’t think so.” For his part, he meant it. It seemed unlikely.

“Good enough, then,” Sam agreed.

Good enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Apparently nobody knew how to knock anymore or request entry into his house, because Chris and Ashley just kind of walked in like they owned the damn place. Josh never even bothered pointing it out, because he’d done so in the past to no avail. Chris dropped a huge retro boombox on Josh’s kitchen counter before hunting around for the two of them.

“Oh, gross,” Chris said when he’d located them. “I wish I’d walked in on you two making out. This is at least ten times worse.”

Josh made a face because they had literally just been sitting there. Chris was just the worst. “Thank you. For breaking into my house for the hundredth time and insulting me for sitting on a couch. For these things I thank you.”

“You’re welcome dude,” Chris said like he actually deserved thanks. “I brought what you asked me to bring, but it wasn’t that easy to get a hold of.”

Ashley scoffed. “I did most of the work.”

“Yeah, but I did most of the complaining,” Chris returned proudly. “So what’s this big celebration, Josh? Does Mike even know we’re going over to his apartment?”

“Absolutely not,” Josh laughed, standing up from the couch to inspect one of the critical elements to his plan. “Nice find, Ash. This is exactly how I imagined it would look when I pictured Mike’s untimely demise. And I know I’m supposed to be cured and all, but trust me, I imagined that a lot.”

“I think we all have at some point,” Ashley agreed, taking a seat at the kitchen counter.

Matt and Emily were fashionably late, which Josh couldn’t help but feel was a deliberate move on Emily’s part. She was immaculately punctual to things that she felt were important and deliberately late to those that the jury was still out on. The amount of control she had over her own projected image was terrifying. They had considered inviting Jess, but Josh had decided to wager that Jess would already be with Mike that evening. Beyond that, everybody knew that Jess couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.

They loaded up Josh’s car with everyone’s contributions for the celebration and headed off in carpools to Mike’s nearby apartment. Ashley rode with Josh to explain the complicated interface of the vintage stereo she had purchased with the aid of Chris’s incessant complaining. Josh wondered if Ashley was thinking the same thing as he was: just imagine if she ever had to buy a house with Chris. He didn’t envy her.

“But ignore this little wheel thing over here, because last time I tried to figure out what it did it unraveled my entire Nat King Cole Christmas album. And that’s not something you ever really get over,” she lamented, staring out the window like she could see the soulful singer’s ghost silently judging her somewhere along Route 83.

Josh could sympathize. “Gotcha. Avoid the little wheel thing.”

“Other than that, I think you can figure the rest out. You do this kind of light and sound stuff all the time anyways.”

Josh nodded and Ashley fell silent, clicking away at little snappy buttons and slots while Josh worked up the courage to broach a subject he typically avoided in recent days. “So, uh, this is kind of weird. You probably don’t even remember it, but over a year ago I got this text from you.” He paused to clear his throat and noticed uncomfortably that he had Ashley’s rapt attention. “It was back before we had talked at all. And you asked – well, I don’t remember the exact words. But you asked me if I had learned anything from all that bullshit on Blackwood. You asked me if I had learned anything and what it had all cost me.” His voice was too quiet for casual conversation, but it was like his discomfort had forcibly muted him and he couldn’t get rid of it.

Ashley was wide-eyed and attentive. “Um, you sure it was me?”

“Yeah,” Josh said a little too quickly. “Yeah I’m sure. Besides the fact that the same unknown number asked me who directed Driving Miss Daisy when you and Chris were watching that movie, your last text used the word “epiphany”. The text was either you or Mike, and I’m pretty confident Mike is too dumb to use that word.

Ashley smiled at that and shrugged slightly. “Yeah, you’re probably right then.”

Josh plowed on. “Do you still want to know? Do you still want an answer to that question?” His knuckles were white and shaking a little on the steering wheel. He wasn’t even nervous - he was just uncomfortable. Deep in the back of his brain a voice was screaming that Ashley didn’t care. She had moved on. Everyone had moved on. Surely he was the only one still thinking about shit like that.

She looked surprised by his question and visibly considered it for what felt like the longest minute of Josh’s life. “I didn’t realize it would take you a year to figure it out,” she said lightly. It seemed just a little forced. She was trying to give him an out.

Nope. Not this time, sweetheart.

“Actually, when I saw that text I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I guess I have to thank you. All – all this,” Josh said gesturing in general to the world and everything in it, “is kinda thanks to you in a funny way. You might not get it, but thanks.”

Ashley seemed _exactly_ like she didn’t get it. “From a text?”

Prying one of his clenched hands from the steering wheel, Josh rubbed at the back of his head. “Kinda. It’s hard to explain.”

She nodded, but said nothing. Josh wished he were better at explaining things. “Well, anyways.” Josh pulled the journal from the inner pocket of his jacket and held it out for Ashley to take. “Here. To answer your text, fashionably late.”

“What’s this?” She asked, accepting the battered notebook and running a hand over its worn cover.

Josh finally tore his eyes away from the road and gave her a careful look. “It’s my answer.” Ashley met his eyes briefly before opening the book and flipping through a few of the pages. She scanned it for a few moments in silence. “My therapist made me write it, but you gave me the idea for it. Most of it is nonsense, but there’s some good stuff in there too.”

“Wow,” Ashely whispered, still flipping back and forth between dog-eared pages and scribbled ink. She stopped at the top of a particularly crowded page and fingered the word circled and underlined a thousand times at the top. “Balance,” she read aloud.

“Balance,” Josh repeated. “That was my theme. It was a balance book.”

Ashley said nothing further, but seemed to catch herself and shut the journal quickly like she had been intruding on Josh’s brain. In a way she had, but only as an invited guest. “S-sorry,” she stuttered, holding the journal back out for him to take.

Josh shrugged. “Keep it. Turns out it’s just a bunch of words,” he said, thinking back to his therapist’s refusal to read it. It was just one of those stupid psychology exercises. The journey is more important than the destination blah, blah, blah. “Besides, I think it did what it was supposed to do in the end.”

“What was it supposed to do?”

“I’m not really sure,” Josh laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “But I’m a little different, so it did something I guess. Good enough,” Josh concluded.

“Yeah, I guess you are different,” Ashley agreed. And if she didn’t want his dumb notebook she didn’t say it. She at least did him the kindness of tucking it into her bag like it might’ve meant something. Maybe it did mean something. _Now_ the chapter felt closed.

They were the first to arrive at Mike’s apartment complex, but the other four showed up shortly thereafter while Josh sifted through old cassette tapes and compared their worth with Ashley’s own judgment. Despite much arguing that eventually spiraled into an all out argument over the merits of various classics, Josh managed to put his foot down and shove his choice of cassette in the old boombox. Matt congratulated his choice while he started up the little tailgate grill he had brought and conspired with Chris to provide food for them all. The parking lot itself was more or less empty on the side facing Mike’s window, which was probably for the best. The last thing any of them needed was to be arrested for loitering.

Josh was sorely tempted to not even invite Mike to their parking lot picnic in his honor just to be a dick, but the boombox was calling his name. Josh opened up to Mike’s last text to him in which he had asked Josh how to import music between phones. Apparently he had tried asking Chris, but Chris refused to do anything except make fun of him for it. The memory was satisfying.

 

 

> **_Josh:_ ** _dude are u home right now_
> 
> **_Mike:_ ** _yeah why_
> 
> **_Josh:_ ** _no reason_

 

Operation ‘[Say Anything](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5Y8tFQ01OY)’ was a go.

Emily was sitting on the hood of Matt’s car, pouring over a stack of legal bullshit bigger than she was. Only Emily could make diligence look sexy. Sam and Chris were fighting over the appropriate way to make potato salad over Matt’s head, so Josh plopped down on the car’s hood alongside Emily.

She gave him a brief look and a vaguely amused smile before returning to whatever the hell she was always up to. Ashley joined them on the hood of the car, hauling the giant boombox with her. “It’s all ready to go,” she declared, dropping it heavily into Josh’s lap. It was a boombox to make John Cusack proud.

“Excellent,” Josh cackled villainously, rubbing his hands together.

Emily set her monstrous amount of homework aside for a moment. “You’re ridiculous,” she sighed. “All of you.”

“That’s definitely true.” Josh hoisted the boombox up on one shoulder. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“And I hope I never find out.”

Josh kind of hoped that too. Without further ado, he snapped the hulking contraption to life, cranked the volume up as far as it would go, and pressed [play](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fc7rhuwJW0k).

Damn.

Those old boomboxes could really project.

Emily clapped both of her hands over her ears and shook her head disdainfully. Josh could barely hear his own laughter over the peppy synthesizers and warbling 80’s music. Matt was cheering from behind the grill.

It took a solid minute for people to start throwing their windows open and peering out to get a look at the hoodlums blasting outdated Tears For Fears from a parking lot picnic. Mike was actually about the sixth person to throw his window open. When he located their small party, Josh made sure to hold the boombox as high as possible above his head. Even from a distance, Mike’s face was bright fucking red. Priceless.

Chris retrieved the megaphone from the side of Josh’s car and spoke into it like a goddamn carnie. “Congrats on one year, Mike!”

Mike looked absolutely horrified and some of his apartment neighbors were shaking fists and yelling obscenities down at them. Jess popped up under Mike’s chin and waved happily at the scene below his window. Mike pushed her back below the window with an audible, “don’t encourage them.”

Josh motioned for Mike to join them, but Mike was shaking his head violently. Even though the volume was already turned all the way up, Josh made an obvious reach for the knob. Mike’s eyes only got wider and he held his hands up defensively. “Don’t! I’m coming. Just turn it down for fucks sake.”

Josh removed his hand from the knob and flashed Mike a threatening thumbs up. When he moved away from the window, Jess reappeared. “Hi Josh! Hi Emily!” She didn’t have a chance to finish her greetings because Mike came back and shut his window irritably.

Finally relenting, Josh lowered the boombox from his shoulder and turned the volume back to a semi-normal level.  Emily was having trouble hiding a grin behind her hand and Ashley’s eyes were shining with victory.

Sam joined them at Matt’s car and leaned back against the front of the car next to Josh’s knees. “So, was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

Josh nodded emphatically. “And then some, Sammy. And then some.”

“Here comes the man of the hour,” Matt snickered, flipping a burger. Mike was being dragged along toward their picnic by an excited Jess. “I’m gonna remember this for a long time, Josh. You have my gratitude.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Matt.”

Mike took it all surprisingly well. They all took turns ruffling his hair, which was actually kind of difficult because he was so damn tall. With only minor pouting, he accepted a plate of food while everyone admired the coin he had received for staying sober. Josh turned it over between his fingers a few times before passing it to Sam. The whole scene was nice, even though Chris couldn’t quit picking fights with Josh about his choice in 80s music. This was not one argument he was willing to surrender.

Unsurprising to any of them, a police car rolled up sometime around midnight, likely in response to their original serenade of Mike’s entire apartment complex. Because it was apparently a really small goddamn world, Officer Brady happened to be the one on beat. The second his eyes met Josh’s he stopped dead in his tracks.

“You!” he accused, pointing a finger directly at him.

“Me!” Josh agreed almost gleefully. Small fucking world.

Officer Brady had noticeable circles under his eyes and without a single word about their transgressions he threw his hands up in surrender. “Fuck it. I’m not dealing with whatever dumb thing you’ve done today. Somebody get me a goddamn hamburger.”

Matt obliged the hapless officer and they stood around complaining about people for a few minutes. Josh wouldn’t have minded all that much if Officer Brady stuck around, but he received another call and departed with a warning about keeping their 80s music to themselves in the future. Yeah, fat chance of that happening.

Mike eventually got over his embarrassment and returned to his rightful place as the center of attention. He was the kind of guy that had a story for everything and you were never actually sure if they were true or not. But you also didn’t want to know if they were true or not. That was the fun of it. It was in the middle of one of those stories as they sat gathered around the glowing coals of Matt’s grill in various mix-matched lawn chairs that Josh decided he was happy. Happy enough.

They hadn’t brought enough lawn chairs, so Josh was still perched on the hood of Matt’s car. With a content sigh, he leaned back until he was reclined against the rapidly cooling metal with his hands cushioning his head. It was delightfully clear out and even with pollution rates being what they were (citation: Sam’s ranting), Josh could see tons of stars. Why, that one just up there was uh, Horace’s Tax Forms. And uh, the really famous one right next to it: Zeus’s Buttplug. You know, all the romantic constellations and shit.

Somewhere between those two constellations and a third that Josh was about to dub Hades’ Lawnmower, he startled himself with the sudden realization that he actually _was_ pretty happy - even if it was just for now. Maybe he’d request some time off work and take Sam to that lake in Wisconsin after all. Why the hell not.

Oh shit. Zeus’s Buttplug was actually just a distant airplane streaking across the sky. Well he was gonna hold the fuck onto _that_ name and assign it elsewhere. That one was too good to abandon.

Instinctively, Josh reached inside his jacket for the familiar shape of his journal pressing against his chest. There was a moment of disappointment when he found nothing, but it passed quickly enough. Sometimes it’s better not to search for meaning in things. Some things just are the way they are. Good enough.

Josh laughed to himself quietly through his nose. His journal was still gone, but he wasn't done learning.

If you find something good enough you might as well stick around for it. He hadn't even realized he'd been teaching himself that damn lesson all year.

And, honestly, it cost him nothing whatsoever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cue curtain. [roll credits](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EI_XUqYhF7U).
> 
> *distant sounds of canons going off and me getting fucking trashed*
> 
> now i can die!
> 
> but seriously, now im gettin a little emotional. thanks for reading all you glorious bastards, it's been a real riot. more than 86k words in a bit over a month. fantastic. i have no idea how this ended up so long but whatever. i had some fun and i hope you did too.
> 
> please, please, please let me know what you thought. i'd love to hear from you: the good, the bad, and the unimpressed. i'll miss you guys for real. feel free to come stop by my [tumblr](http://coldmackerel.tumblr.com) and chat. i'm friendly and always open to general tomfoolery.
> 
> indigo out.


End file.
